To Save a Life
by Kianda
Summary: Trapped and injured Roy awaits rescue. How far will his friends go to save his life?
1. Chapter 1

_I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with 'em._

To Save A Life

Written by: Kianda

Chapter One

He felt the chill clear through to his bones.

Why was it so cold? Thinking his wife had stolen all the covers again, Roy DeSoto attempted to slide closer to his wife's side of the bed for the warmth he'd find there. The LA County paramedic's eyes opened as deep throbbing pain registered throughout his body. As the fog of darkness lifted it turned out he wasn't home in his bed, but trapped in an inconceivable nightmare.

Dread coursed through his veins like a slow poison. Where was he?

Roy's scrambled brain slowly started to function. His thoughts centered as he calmed, becoming less confused. He remembered a fire. Yes, the warehouse fire. Cap had ordered them out of the building so how had he ended up entwined inside this prison of rubble?

His clouded mind threw a switch and the lights came on. He'd fallen into the basement when the floor of the warehouse collapsed! Fear assaulted his senses, stronger this time, causing his stomach to clench which in turn had him fighting off nausea. Johnny! Did he fall too? Instantly he stilled. No, his sluggish mind revealed. He'd managed to push his partner clear before the floor collapsed.

How long had he been trapped? Minutes or was it hours? He had no clear answer.

Office furniture lay scattered about so it told him he was in an office room. He estimated how close to an exit the office would be. The room shouldn't be so hard to find. He shouted only to have it end in painful coughing. God, this is bad he thought.

He forced his mind to relax taking stock of his situation.

A compressed wooden blanket enclosed his body, inter-woven with plaster, metal, and cans. It impeded free movement. How had he survived? Frankly, he should be dead. Victims needing rescue had fallen from lesser heights without all the added debris on top of them and didn't survive.

Attached to his back his air tank became a saving grace. Snagged by debris it kept him close to the floor, but somewhat upright, or the outcome would have been very different. Being in an awkward tilted position helped his breathing. If he'd landed flat to the floor he'd have had no chance. Roy would have laughed at the absurdity of the thought had he enough air in his lungs.

The combined mixture of smoke, ash, and plaster dust came down as a dirty fine snow. It settled on everything, reminiscent of a bush fire's aftermath. The effect of swirling powder cast a shrouded darkness over the enclosed space, desolate and dying a possible tomb.

His air mask and helmet were both gone, buried like him, somewhere in the rubble. Without his air mask for protection, the particles of dust and dense smoke invaded his lungs like a territorial army, causing him to cough, the spasms unrelenting.

Instinctively the paramedic began a self-assessment thinking his way downward.

A warm wetness ran into his eyes. His head felt squashed inside a hydraulic press, dizziness, and continual nausea all but screamed concussion.

His arms felt laden and he soon had a reason. His left arm lay pinned underneath him, and the way it throbbed, probably broken. His right one held by a large chunk of plaster covering his chest . . . tingled persistently.

A steady throbbing ache pulsated in the low region of his back. Intermittently, the ache would become a sharp gripping pain radiating outward running up the entire length of his back.

Several of his ribs all on his left were possibly broken.

Both his legs were pinned beneath a sizable wooden beam lying across the lower half of his body, and probably fractured considering how he landed. Both were numb, the weight he figured, suppressing his pain. The prospect of his legs cut off from circulating blood frightened him most of all.

The simple act of thinking through his injuries left Roy weary. Having medical knowledge proved to be a double edge sword. Suffering from severe injuries and trapped, he could do nothing to help himself.

Listening intently, he desperately needed to hear sounds of a rescue in progress. Outside noises usually prevalent during a major structure fire were conspicuously absent. Had the fall affected his hearing?

He closed his eyes against a sudden onset of pain seizing his belly. Roy knew what the outcome could be. Blunt force trauma to the abdomen meant possible internal injury.

Time now became the enemy.

Subtle noises, none of which offered hope of a rescue but affirmed the fall hadn't damaged his hearing, filtered in.

He'd been in this situation before and rescued, this was no different he kept telling himself.

Tremors shook him mocking his last thought. His body reacting to the trauma it received was slipping into shock.

I have to do something, he argued with himself.

"Not a good idea," a little voice warned.

Ignoring the fact he shouldn't be moving he focused on his right arm, he tried dislodging what rested on top of him. His goal was to reach the HT he prayed was still inside his turncoat pocket. As he tried to lift up on the plaster holding him tight, it shifted slightly, giving Roy confidence. In the next breath, his confidence turned into a strangled moan as streaks of white molten agony flooded into his lower back. Darkness encroached. He fell into the void.

* * *

Time passed. . . .

A murky grayness greeted him when he came around again. It took him longer to focus, his thoughts muzzy.

Please hurry he silently implored. I can't last much longer like this.

Growing weaker, a rapid debilitating exhaustion swept over him. Eyes closed, all fear faded into the background. _I'm dying. _

The thought of death held little sway over him. Every firefighter lived with death as a possibility. It came with the job. The firefighter-paramedic experienced his share of harrowing near misses, had cheated his dark nemesis of its final prize a couple of times now…

The icy, ever patient, and greedy hands of death hovered near… It murmured his name enticingly, daring him to let go and step into the gray. Roy ignored its bewitching invitation. No! He wasn't ready to give in, but time was running out.

Important memories fought for dominance, one in particular stood out amongst the others.

* * *

Both he and his partner John Gage had been working together as paramedics for a few years now. Both knew the other well enough to be able to discuss anything, at least this was what the senior paramedic hoped.

Roy had finally overcome his reluctance to discuss what weighed heavily on his mind. The near electrocution he'd suffered eight months ago was the closest he'd ever come to dying. He needed to have a plan in place to protect his family, to have all his ducks in a row so to speak.

Roy didn't air his private issues with anyone other than his wife. Sure, he'd talk with Johnny about his family, sometimes even complain, but Men didn't have everyday conversations like this as a rule. The subject of dying, while not avoided, just didn't come up. The two had been sitting at the kitchen table of Station 51. The engine was gone when they returned from Rampart, and they were alone foregoing the usual coffee break. The day turned out to be a real scorcher, so they'd opted instead for a nice tall glass of ice-cold lemonade. It had been the first quiet break they'd had all day.

"Hey Johnny, let me ask you something."

"Yeah, go ahead," his fellow paramedic, answered.

Roy knew he had to jump right in or forget the whole thing. He took the plunge. "Do you ever think of dying?"

The unexpected question and serious subject startled the younger paramedic. His whole body tensed, eyes going wide he looked at his friend sharply. "What? Are you serious?" Uncertainty creeping into his voice he said, "Has the heat gotten to you? What brought this on?"

"I've been thinking about it ever since my, accident."

Sudden understanding dawned. Roy didn't need to explain. It wasn't likely Johnny would forget he almost died.

The senior paramedic lowered his gaze, suddenly fascinated by the little rivulets of condensation running down his sweating lemonade glass.

Johnny gazed at his best friend before answering. "Sometimes I do," he said serious inflection lacing his words, "especially following a run gone badly or when I wind up in Rampart." Chewing on his lower lip, "I don't have a wife or children who depend on me, so it's not the same for me as it would be for you Roy. I don't dwell on it much, its bad luck. Where are ya going with this?"

"I'm sorry Johnny; maybe I should just forget it."

"No, Roy, you obviously have thought about this for sometime. What is it?"

Nodding and taking a deep breath Roy pressed on, "I wouldn't ask . . . but I know I can rely on you. I need to know someone will be . . . I need you to do something for me. Can you do that?"

"You're really starting to weird me out with this pally. Just say it."

Now that he had his friends complete attention Roy found himself floundering.

"Roy?" Johnny prompted his head cocked slightly to the side.

A lone finger ran up and down his glass as he contemplated an answer, "if anything happens to me . . . m . . . my dying wish would be for you to make sure everything is taken care of, okay? I need to know my family will be taken care of by someone they love." Roy looked up then and had glimpsed a look of amazement, and something else, fear, before his friend was able to mask it.

"Roy nuthin' is gonna happen to you!" Johnny's hand automatically ran through his thick dark hair, alerting Roy he'd upset his friend. "Man…this is heavy."

"I know," Roy said soothingly, but if it ever does . . . . "

"Okay, okay," his anxious friend, conceded, his hands rose in a placating manner, "Roy, you know I would do anything for you and your family, ya didn't have to ask." Looking at his close friend, suspiciously, an uncertain gleam in his eyes, Johnny inquired cautiously, "is something going on I should . . . um . . . know about? Is anything wrong?"

"No. Nothing is wrong." Seeing the look of genuine concern, he added quickly smiling, "I'm fine junior. I feel better since I've asked you."

"Jeez! I'm glad _you_ feel better," Johnny muttered taking another long drink from his glass. "Ya just took ten years off my life with this conversation. Let's talk about something else, 'cause, nothings gonna happen to you, not if I can help it."

* * *

The memory slipped away as easily as it came, leaving in its wake the return of his present surroundings.

Irritated eyes no longer burned from the thick swirling smoke present when he'd first awakened. The gray shadowy haze in the room thinned. It appeared brighter, infusing him with the possibility the fire was out.

Whisperings of sound penetrated Roy's oppressive stillness. He could hear water dripping down the debris. He felt icy water saturate his clothing, the shock of it against nerve sensitive skin caused him to shudder continuously, adding to his misery.

Desperately trying to drive out the dust and smoke threatening to smother them, his polluted lungs set off brutal coughing spasms. With each one, a hot poker stabbed into his wounded back and side.

Just when he was, thinking things couldn't get any worse, a sharp creaking, and groaning from above alerted Roy to another collapse. A heavy object slammed into his hazardous cocoon.

Unconsciousness claimed him quickly.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with 'em._

_Thank you to all who reviewed. It keeps the ideas flowing. _

To Save a Life

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Two

* * *

Attempts to contact Roy over the HT failed. The answering silence sent a fateful message; Roy's life hung in the balance and time was running out.

Responding to the summons of the second alarm, Station 16, Engine 127, and Station 36 rolled in. Battalion 14 arrived three minutes after 36. Efficient as always the veteran firefighter took charge of the scene and organized a rescue mission.

The heart-stopping boom of another collapse brought with it sounds of alarm and dismay. This secondary collapse . . . larger than the first . . . covering a wider expanse of the basement completely stalled any rescue attempt.

Battalion called for an assessment team to check the buildings stability.

Amid the organized chaos, Captain Stanley stood near the engine along with his crew who anxiously waited for the green light to reenter the building. Things were moving at a snails pace. At least it felt that way to 51's A-Shift.

Johnny resorted to pacing up and down, in nervous agitation. "Cap, if we don't get to Roy soon . . ." He stopped pacing long enough to glance at his watch. Thirty minutes, Roy had lain trapped now for thirty minutes. Every imaginable injury his friend might have suffered tormented him along with a large dose of guilt; if Roy died . . . he shook off the dark thought.

Hank heard the pleading almost desperate tone John used. He was acutely aware of what lay at stake. "I'm with ya John; there is nothing more important to any of us right now then getting to Roy. It shouldn't be much longer."

Hank physically restrained his junior paramedic from rushing back into the building after the second collapse. Personally, he'd wanted to do the same. If things didn't move along soon he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep John from taking matters into his own hands. His men were going through mental purgatory not knowing the fate of their friend. John affected most of all had withdrawn, internalizing his fears.

51's commander compartmentalized his own emotions. As captain, he didn't have the luxury of letting personal feelings get in the way of performing his job. His job demanded his utmost attention. As nerve, wracking as it proved to be this meant waiting on the assessment team's report. Lives counted on it. The team returned minutes go.

"Pick up the speed boys," The stymied captain mumbled under his breath.

Impatience dripped from everyone present. On the ground the stokes basket lay packed with life saving equipment they would carry inside.

Finally, he heard the words that would set them in motion.

Hank," the Chief called, "you have the go ahead. Be extra vigilant; get in and get out. Team estimates your window is forty minutes. Pick three others to accompany you. I can't risk a larger group."

Hank nodded turning a grim face toward his crew.

"Gage, Lopez, and . . ."

"I'm volunteering sir," said a voice, interrupting Hank. The owner of the voice startled 51's captain. 36's Paramedic, Craig Brice.

"Gage will need another paramedic to help him."

Pragmatically stated the battalion chief found himself agreeing. "Gear up."

As he made his way toward squad 16 for his gear, Craig could clearly see everyone waiting for him to explain his reasoning. He had no intention of explaining. Common sense said Gage would need help. The other two firemen, weren't paramedics. Bellingham, squad 16's paramedic . . . and his temporary working partner for this shift, would remain outside.

Hank watched Brice turn away toward the squad. Not knowing the extent of Roy's injuries Brice's logic proved sound to Hank, but why volunteer? As far as he could tell, many people disliked Craig. While an experienced paramedic, the man could plainly benefit from some social nicety classes. Hell, Hank didn't even know if the man had any friends. Craig Brice was the departments living and breathing, _walking rulebook._

Rumor went most paramedic's tried to avoid working with him. Hank could understand how this could happen. They'd all gotten a taste of the man when Brice temporarily replaced John after he'd gone out on injury leave.

Brice pushed DeSoto's even-tempered buttons to the breaking point. Able to work with anybody, his frustrated paramedic contemplated busting Brice in the jaw after working with him for a few days. The annoying man's persistence about always being correct and his insensitive attitude, would try the patience of a saint!

Hank long suspected that Craig purposely allowed others to think him cold and insensitive; thus keeping everyone at arms length. He had a hunch the more than capable paramedic was afraid of someone discovering the real person beneath the mask. Moments such as this one had the captain convinced, something haunted Brice, a tragic past event he was trying to atone for.

"Now that beats all," Marco whispered to his closed mouthed shift mate. Johnny already aware Brice was covering for Eric Johnson of 16's said nothing. The man stepped up and volunteer . . . why . . . didn't matter. Brice could only help improve his friend's chances, and right now, all that mattered to Johnny was getting to Roy.

Hank advised, "we're going in for a wrap and run. Let's hope the building co-operates with us."

A somber Mike Stoker, Station 51's engineer, watched his friends disappear into the bowels of the unstable building. He turned toward his remaining crew member. "Chet, I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach . . ."

The lineman's eyes opened wide hearing such a disturbing statement coming from the normally reserved Mike Stoker.

Mike picked up the HT and squelched it before speaking. "HT 51, Roy? If you can hear me hang on, help is coming . . . ."

* * *

As awareness returned, Roy wanted nothing more than to remain in the darkness where he found relief. Pain, his present enemy, refused to allow retreat. He comprehended hazily he still lay where he had fallen, seemingly ages ago. If it were possible, the wreckage around his body felt even more tightly compacted than before_. _When was his torment going to end?

God, he was cold. It felt a glacial mountain wind had rushed through him, leaving him frozen and empty. Nothing, especially his now wet turnout gear, could keep away the ice creeping lethally through his veins. _Would he die here? _

He heard debris crashing from time to time, cracking sounds and settling noises. The biggest sound was his harsh breathing. Did he hear voices? A thumping noise? Was it his own heartbeat he was hearing or could it be something else?

He had trouble concentrating. Was he supposed to be doing something?

Everything took on a surreal view. His vision wavered like heat rising off desert sands. How he wished the heat were real, it would go a long way in chasing away the deathly cold.

An incessant squawking sound steady for a while, seemed close by. Strange, something nagged at him. Shouldn't he know what the noise was? Determined to figure it out, paying attention to only the one sound, the answer finally came. The handy-talkie!

A low muffled voice spoke with calm assurance, _"HT 51, Roy? If you can hear me hang on help is coming."_ The message repeated then went silent.

Hearing help would soon reach him had no effect on the injured man. It didn't matter; they probably wouldn't get to him on time. He felt his exhausted body shutting down.

* * *

He'd heard the stories of course—that life flashed in front of you . . . every memory crystal clear. He'd never taken much stock in them being true, until now.

Dying seemed an intimate process to Roy, embedded with lonely thoughts of wishes unfulfilled.

Death's door lay open and thoughts . . . flowed and ebbed . . . much like the tide of an ocean. With no steering currents to drive them, they shifted in whatever direction they wished.

Wavering between the light of life and the dark void of death . . . the outside world and all its troubles shrank, as precious memories took center stage. He watched the broken images pass. His life story. . . .

* * *

Exploding ordinance, the report of rapid gunfire, and the screams of the injured and dying were all around him. "Medic!" He heard the terrified cry. Keeping his head down Roy belly crawled his way toward the wounded soldier.

The whizzing ping of enemy bullets overhead, the sting of dirt peppering his face as they struck the ground near him, became a never ending reality. Hoping he'd even make it to the fallen soldier's side, Roy felt the ground shutter as another grenade exploded. Protecting his head with his arms, dirt and rocks reined down bouncing off his helmet and back. His ears rang from the loud explosion. The strong smell of sulfur stung his nose and made his eyes water. He dared to lift his head to check on the injured soldier only to find sightless eyes staring in his direction.

Reaching the soldier, Roy swallowed the bile rising in his throat at the site of the gore, experiencing instant sorrow. The soldier was young, probably hadn't even seen his twentieth birthday! He grabbed the soldier's dog tags, breaking the chain from around his neck. Placing one tag into the soldier's mouth, he slid the second one inside his fatigues shirt pocket. It clanged against the others resting there. He could not bring himself to look at the name on the tag. To do so was to personalize the moment and Roy couldn't afford the added emotional burden.

He was here to try to save lives but the longer the war went on the more Roy knew the dead would out weigh the living. The cry for a medic came again and all he could do was close the sightless eyes of somebody's child and move on.

He made a promise to himself then and there. If he lived through this experience, he would put his talents to work where he could make a difference. He vowed he would save as many lives as he could.

* * *

Vision wavered, and re-focused, Roy saw himself as one of the countless new boots of L. A. County Fire Department. The promise he'd made to himself had come to fruition.

Bringing a brand new life into the world, easing the burden of a stranger when they needed his help the most, and the satisfaction of knowing he'd saved a life, kept him coming back.

Abundant rescues raced through his mind from the funny and successful to the heartbreaking ones. Tragically, there were those poor souls they could not save, their bodies just too broken. He remembered them all, by name and by face.

* * *

Another coughing attack shook his frame. Distractedly he wondered how much longer he'd hang on.

"Roy?" Was someone shouting his name? Yes, death was calling him; but he wasn't ready. He ignored it and returned to his inner musing.

* * *

The image of Joanne, his childhood sweetheart, his wife, floated before him.

He fallen in love with her in the fifth grade and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt they'd be married.

His mind replayed his wedding day. How beautiful Joanne looked and how lucky he felt.

As the years advanced, they shared a deep passionate relationship, the foundation built on love, trust and respect.

A special woman, Joanne understood what it meant to be a fire-fighters wife. The inner strength it took to survive the daily uncertainty of whether or not he'd return safely home, kept him in awe.

She made it a point never to go to bed angry. Being angry, she'd once told him, took time and energy away from what really mattered, their life together. If something were to happen, she didn't want the last memory to be one she'd regret.

His job made a difference she'd reminded him time and again. Yes it was dangerous; yes it gave her sleepless nights, but the knowledge her husband saved lives for a living? How could one top that?

Her smile could light up the night and he pictured her smiling as her image faded from view.

* * *

A snapshot of his two children, Christopher and Jennifer came to him. How he loved them! He recaptured the indescribable feeling of cradling his children in his arms for the first time. Even the absolute fear that he might someday leave them without a father, couldn't take away the sheer beauty of the moment.

With Joanne as their mother, and counselor, he didn't fear for his children. They would grow to be self-reliant, their spirits indomitable, just like hers.

* * *

He rode the tide of recollection, from present to past, and back again.

"Roy!"

Who could be calling him? Death that's who, and he didn't answer. Shuddering with cold, he decided the effort to listen demanded too much energy. He slipped back into his visions where the cold faded away. . . .

* * *

His mind's eye evoked pictures of all his friends. One by one, they flashed before him.

He recalled how he met a young rescue firefighter by the name of John Gage, now his closest friend.

Johnny had shown up on the last day of the paramedic sign-up for the second class. He explained he worked out of Station 10, as a rescue man. Approached numerous times by his captain about signing up for the new paramedic program . . . and a recent run gone badly . . . he found himself wondering what the paramedic program was all about.

Roy couldn't help like the feisty young man. Johnny had listened intently to everything he'd had to say and then, proceeded to fire off questions of his own.

Satisfied with the answers he'd signed up for the class.

A quick learner and compassionate by nature, Johnny was a natural. His simplicity with people, a rare gift, only enhanced his Likability. After the three-month training period concluded, LA assigned them to work A-shift out of the newly built Station 51 in Carson City, L.A.

Working closely together, shift in and shift out, they became best of friends. To Roy, Johnny was a brother in all but blood. His wife and children adored him, and as the years past, Johnny became an adopted member of the family.

No one embraced life with such exuberance. His allegiance once given remained unwavering, no matter the trial. If you were lucky enough to know John Gage, you could only benefit from the relationship.

Roy felt blessed for the six years they'd shared a friendship.

* * *

The barely imperceptible smile vanished from his lips. The picture changed. He watched in silent agitation as he relived his accident. . . .

* * *

They responded just after lunch to a structure fire located near the channel, yet isolated. It turned out to be a small warehouse complex. Residential districts did dot the area but none close to the vicinity to warrant concern.

The complex housed three smaller buildings and one long dock.

Inside the burning warehouse, one hundred and fifty pound cartons were stacked three high. Packed with canned vegetables, the cartons rose up along the sides of the warehouse walls, halfway to the ceiling. They sat on large wooden pallets.

Engine 110 was already on scene when they arrived.

The company's security guard informed 110's captain the building was empty of personnel, and all were accounted for.

A victim sweep not required, Cap told them to grab the inch and a half and back up Marco and Chet.

They'd been battling the flames for little under an hour. The fire proved stubborn, and the heat, intense. Roy worried about the large cardboard cartons up on the pallets. Once water logged, cardboard became unstable, heavy, and possibly lethal if you were under one when they gave way.

They were making progress toward the back of the warehouse. The obscure outline of his shift-mates further ahead, swayed in the heat and smoke, barely recognizable. He knew 110's crew was closer to the front entrance.

The HT had suddenly come to life, Cap's voice urgently speaking, _"The building has become unstable, evacuate! I repeat evacuate the building!"_

Thick, black smoke obscured the room. In their immediate area the controlled fire almost out, aided by the building's sprinkler system. Roy heard himself breathing through his air mask; the crackling sounds the fire produced, loud in his ears. Pallets toppled sending the water logged cartons tumbling to the floor, releasing their cargo. Tin cans rolled across the floor in every direction. Some of them burst open on impact, spewing their contents into the air, and on to the floor adding to the slickness. The odor of burnt vegetables permeated the air and seeped beneath his air mask.

As they made their way toward the front and freedom, one of the wooden pallets closest to them began to topple. Roy stumbled backward narrowly avoiding the crashing cartons and the rolling bouncing cans. He collided with Johnny. Somehow, Johnny managed to keep his feet, but Roy off balance from the collision, tripped over the rolling cans and went down. He'd barely kept his grip on the hose. He felt Johnny's hand on his arm trying to help him regain his feet. With his other hand, Johnny steadied the fully charged hose.

_"You okay?" _he shouted voice muted through the mask.

The slight rumble under Roy's body was the first indicator. Looking hard at the floor Roy sensed the danger, felt the floor give. . . .

He didn't think as a panicked adrenalin rush gave him the strength he needed. Roy stood and turned in one fluid motion letting go of the hose. He grabbed his startled friend. With one adrenaline aided shove, he half-pushed/half-threw Johnny as far away from the danger as he could.

"Whoa…" Johnny cried.

In slow motion, Roy caught a glimpse of the dropped fire hose taking on a life of its own, a ravenous creature searching for a meal. Johnny, who'd been trying to regain his footing from Roy's unexpected shove, had his feet completely knocked out from under him from the hose connecting with his legs. The lightweight paramedic went down hard, temporarily breathless.

With only water from the sprinklers controlling the fire, the beast's flames renewed and shot up toward the ceiling expanding outward in a grotesque death dance. The heat intensified. At Johnny's cry, his other shift-mates turned to cover them with their hose. Desperately trying to regain his balance Johnny's feet kept sliding in the slick mess.

Roy could only hope his friend remained safe and not fall with him. In the next instant, he felt weightless as a hole opened in the floor under him swallowing him whole. . . .

"Roy!" Johnny's horrified muffled shout reached him as he plunged downward.

Roy tried to make his body as small as possible as the basement floor rushed up to meet him. Building parts rained down with him. Agony traveled the length of his legs as they impacted the hard surface of the basement floor curling under him. Roy heard and felt a nauseating snap. His head collided against an immovable object, stars formed before his eyes. A heavy object slammed into his chest.

All went black.

* * *

Slowly he watched the picture show of his life end. He was tired in both mind and body.

His thoughts returned to his family. They would need the support and help of all his friends. The comfort and caring of the whole firefighter community would surround and shelter them. His dying wishes would be honored by Johnny.

The strength of his best friend, given freely would help his family cope. Johnny would offer them stability in a world turned upside down. He would supply them with emotional balance as well as a sense of security. The unquestionable bond they shared unbreakable…not even by death.

The icy cold presence of the dark specter hovered close by; His only regret was not having the chance to say good-by.

A penetrating lethargy was stealthily creeping over him. His thoughts ceased. His heartbeat grew weaker… he slipped further into death's shadow.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with 'em._

To Save a Life

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Three

* * *

_Oh, God, not like this! _

Frightening thoughts ran wild through Johnny's head the moment his eyes made contact with the still form of his best friend.

"Roy can you hear me?"

The semi-conscious man heard the question from far away.

* * *

Body fully extended while lying on his belly, Johnny had a hand on his friend's neck checking for life.

Marco's face lost color as he saw his friend's unmoving body. "Johnny is he—?"

"No, he's got a pulse," he informed them shutting his eyes in relief.

"_LA this is Engine 51. Dispatch an ambulance to our location."_

"_10-4, Engine 51."_

Johnny tried to inch closer. Debris shaken loose from the top collapsed downward, just missing his legs.

"Hold it John!" Hank warned. "Don't move around. Give us a few minutes to secure some of this." Turning, he immediately went to work stabilizing the area, Marco and Craig joining him.

The junior paramedic's anxiety level rose sequentially as he visually swept the room. The scene resembled a complex jigsaw puzzle. The pieces varying in size and scope filled up the small room. Looking up Johnny noticed the original opening had widened. Something didn't add up. There seemed to be much more wreckage here than there aught to be. His eyes traveled through the opening; he could see daylight! Part of the main roof weakened by the fire, gave way, falling through the space created with the initial cave in. This was the source of the second collapse.

Accumulation of ceiling pieces, plaster, roofing material, piping, metal, wood, and iron, were all a part of the horrible scene.

A wooden beam lying across Roy's lower body pinned both his legs to the floor.

"Cap," Johnny said, "were gonna need the porta power. We won't be able to lift this . . . beam." "He hesitated and swallowed hard as he saw a metal rod jutting out between Roy's back and his tank. The rod sloped downward becoming lost to the shadows, the angle of Roy's body prevented a clearer picture. _Did the rod penetrate his back?_

His eyes continued the visual assessment.

Both arms lay pinned and lacking an air mask Roy had lain in the midst of contaminated air, slowly chocking his lungs.

Interconnected, precariously crossing and supporting each other like a child's game of pick up sticks, the debris would require careful handling. This translated into time. Time Roy couldn't afford to loose. He'd lain trapped for far too long already . . . every minute he remained became critical. Any hope for a quick extraction faded. He'd have to start an IV here. In the back of his mind, Johnny worried that the shaky building could completely collapse at any moment.

Survey complete, well-trained eyes came to rest on his friends pale and blood streaked face.

"Roy, try and open your eyes." Johnny coaxed. A groan reached his ears. Heady relief washed over him. "Roy you're gonna be fine. We're working on getting ya out' a here." He watched for signs of recognition.

Roy's eyes opened.

"Johnny?" Roy croaked, eyes refusing to stay open.

"Yeah Roy, its Johnny; stay with me. Can you remember what happened?"

Roy grimaced in pain. ". . . What?"

Johnny repeated his question.

"No, I, yeah, uh, no . . . hurt." Roy's confusion signaled shock.

"It's okay, easy, easy."

His emotion running high, Johnny's continued talking while making a closer visual inspection of the rubble compressing his chest.

"I know you're hurting. I know it; we'll have you outta here in no time."

Roy's coughing sounded harsh through the air mask.

"Easy," Johnny cautioned.

Brice's voice rang out, breaking the somber silence of the room. "Rampart this is Squad 16? How do you read?"

After a brief pause, Dr. Brackett's calm voice answered, "go ahead 16 this is Rampart."

"Rampart we have a 36 year old paramedic caught in a floor collapse. We are with the victim now. We are in the process of obtaining vitals. Please stand by."

"Standing by 16."

Kelly Brackett's mouth tightened perceptively. He recognized Brice's voice immediately. He wondered briefly if it might possibly be Bellingham, since Bob worked out of 16, and Kel knew his age to be around 36. Brice must be covering for Eric Johnson. He could ask of course but knew he wouldn't. He would wait for 16 to transmit again. Familiar with most paramedics, he considered a few close friends. When one came in with injuries, it was especially tough to take. Rubbing his forehead, he felt the stirrings of a tension headache.

"What is it Kel?" Dixie asked as she joined him. She'd missed the initial call in; but not the tension surrounding him.

"Squad 16 is dealing with a code I entrapment." His facial tick working.

He heard her indrawn breath. "Who is it?"

He wrestled with whether to inform her that the trapped fireman was also a paramedic. While Dixie's devotion to the paramedic program was common knowledge, she included a select few of them within her inner circle of friends. He decided to keep his silence for now.

"16 didn't say," he told her truthfully. "Lets just hope it doesn't take them long to get him out."

Dixie's heart and prayers went out to whoever lay trapped. Tempted to call LA dispatch she held off, they'd know soon enough.

* * *

Brice placed the receiver back into the bio-phone case.

In grim determination Marco, Craig, and Hank continued to secure the area, while, Johnny talked with Roy trying to keep him conscious. He kept slipping in and out.

The instability of their surroundings drove them to work as fast as they dared. No one spoke unless necessary. Hank continuously looked to his watch.

Hank noted Marco's lips were moving in silent prayer. Prayer always helped calm and center his linemen during high-tension situations. His man firmly believed in the power of faith. Hank sent up his own silent request.

As he waited for the porta-power to arrive, Johnny began wiping blood away from Roy's face. He discovered a minor gash just over one eye. He then probed the back of Roy's head with his fingers and felt a bump near his left ear. Lack of blood or fluid leaking from either ear or nose eased his worry over a potentially serious head injury. A three-inch laceration near the bump was still oozing blood, and Roy had a few shallow lacerations and abrasions to his neck area. He also could see a minor burn just under his turnout collar. Soot around his nose and mouth only confirmed smoke inhalation.

Two of 110's crew arrived carrying the porta-power. They spoke quietly, letting Hank know the fire had been contained and the stress fractures were growing on the outside of the building. They volunteered to stay, but Hank ordered them out.

Dripping water from the floor above and the steady dropping of debris became a constant reminder of just how perilous a situation they were in.

Groaning Roy opened his clouded blue eyes. "Welcome back partner," Johnny greeted softly, "you were napping." He then informed the injured man what they were about to do.

Positioning the porta-power underneath the end section of the wooden beam, Marco singled he was ready to begin.

Johnny looked at the pile in apprehension. Some of the wreckage still rested on the beam, and if any major piece slipped . . . Johnny nodded for Marco to begin.

"You'll be at the Rampart in no time Roy."

"Trust . . . you."

Emotionally choked by those words Johnny's mind shouted, _God Roy, if I had been paying more attention you wouldn't be here._

Marco began pumping.

Inch by precarious inch the beam slowly rose. A steady creaking accompanied each pump of the porta-power. Adding to tattered nerves, a few of the weaker pieces slid from the pile just missing Roy. Every few pumps Marco paused watching the pile for instability. Once the weight of the beam no longer rested on Roy's legs, he stopped.

The debris held.

A cry of misery from the wounded man made Marco wince.

As the blood surged into his legs along with the accompanying pain, Roy wished he'd black out; fate turned cruel and he stayed conscious.

For Johnny, time moved incredibly slowly. Roy needed an IV and he needed it yesterday. Being unable to relieve his suffering beat him up emotionally. In a soothing voice contradicting his inner turmoil, he told his traumatized friend, "It's almost done."

Both of Roy's legs and right ankle were broken but amazingly no open fractures.

Hank found himself, dubiously scanning the rubble covering Roy's chest. "John, she should hold for what you need to do. Go ahead; just take it slow.

Johnny wasted no time. "Marco, Brice, I'm gonna need your help with this," he indicated what lay across his partner's upper body."

Saying nothing, but knowing minutes could make the difference between life and death, both men complied.

The pile creaked threateningly.

"Roy, we're gonna take this weight off your chest. Let us do all the work."

All three set to work relieving him of the heavy object. Roy's breathing improved only slightly.

The mound held.

When done, Marco carefully backed away, grateful he'd been able to do something to ease his friends suffering.

Taking his penlight out of his pocket Johnny aimed it toward Roy's eyes. "Roy I'm gonna look at your eyes."

Roy groaned and flinched at the bright light.

"Easy, easy," Johnny findings did not come as a surprise. Roy's eyes, while reactive to light, were sluggish.

Removing his gloves Johnny smoothly released the top two buckles of Roy's saturated turncoat feeling for broken bones along Roy's sternum and collarbone. Both were free of breaks. His right arm bruised but okay. His left, fractured."

Next Johnny gingerly palpated Roy's abdomen and Roy hissed in pain. Johnny looked at Brice, who got the message. The abdomen was distended, bruised and somewhat rigid. _An_ _Internal injury_. The very thought made him blanch as he continued to move down the rest of the body.

Brice already prepared with BP cuff and stethoscope joined him. Placing the blood pressure cuff around Roy's right arm, He took Roy's blood pressure, pulse and rate of respiration's.

A sharp cracking boom nervously grabbed their attention. As all watched, small spidery vein-like cracks emerged from floor to ceiling on the south and east sides of the office wall. Hank looked to Johnny without commenting. Johnny understood they were running out of time.

With a new sense of urgency he asked, "Roy can ya tell me where it hurts the most."

"Everywhere . . . the oxygen was helping; Roy's answers were more coherent. "My head—my back—I'm bleeding."

"What about your back Roy?"

"Like a . . . hot poker sticking me." Roy's closed, then with effort reopened, "Stomach . . ."

"I know," Johnny comforted voice full of resolve, but deeply troubled.

The paramedic placed a c-collar around Roy's neck as a spinal precaution.

"I'm…bad off Johnny." Roy's mouth squeezed into a tight line as Johnny gingerly placed Roy's broken left arm next to his side. It throbbed with every erratic beat of his heart. "Cold . . ."

"Don't you worry, we'll have ya out' a here in a minute." Johnny grabbed the blanket pack ripping it from its packaging placing the blanket over Roy's shaking form as best he could since they were still working on him. "This should help some."

A severe pain grabbed the injured man's abdomen. Seeing his distress Johnny spoke gently, "I know it's hard, but try and relax."

A prisoner of his own pain Roy concentrated on just breathing. It felt like he was breathing through molasses.

"Stay tough pal," Hank encouraged. He could see Roy's pain increasing, his breathing strained and noisy.

"Don't know if—I can."

Roy's answer unsettled the usually composed captain.

"You hang on Roy! We're working hard to get you out of here."

Johnny, if I don't—make it—out," sporadic coughing continued, "tell, Jo—"

"What are you talkin' about Roy?" Johnny said calmly despite the fear those words caused. "We'll have ya tap dancing in no time, besides remember I told you. Nuthin' will happen to you, not if I can help it."

"Some things," the injured man said between coughs, "you . . . can't fix."

Roy sounded as if he were giving up! Half the battle was making sure Roy remained positive! "Think about the days off you're gonna enjoy with Joanne and the kids once we get you outta here."

A large boom reverberated throughout the basement startling everyone. Hank automatically scanned the walls and ceiling. The time his watch told him, they'd been only in the building for fifteen minutes.

Johnny glanced up briefly before opening Roy's turncoat all the way. He cut through Roy's clothing. Substantial bruising traveling up the left side of Roy's chest, clear to the shoulder—vibrant colors of purple, blue, and green—and feeling the squishy, rice sized bits under his fingers, warned of fractured ribs.

Roy stiffened and gave a weak moan at Johnny's touch.

Few lacerations to his chest, Roy's turncoat shielded him from the potentially sharp debris.

Johnny tried again once for a visual inspection of the lower back area, only to be disappointed. They would physically have to turn him in order to inspect his back.

"Tired . . . not gonna . . . it."

"Cut it out Roy you're _gonna _make it, we've almost got you out' a here. You need to fight for your family. I'll be right back."

Johnny stepped out of his line of vision. Roy's eyes closed and slipped into unconsciousness.

"He's out Gage." Brice called.

Looking back toward Roy, Johnny contemplated letting Brice relay the vitals. He completely understood why doctors didn't operate on immediate family members. Could he do this? To him, Roy was a family member! He felt the sudden urge to throw up. Taking a deep measured breath, he dug way down tapping into his inner calm. When stress become too much he used this method as a coping mechanism. This allowed him the ability to push his feelings of fear and insecurity aside. He couldn't afford to loose it. Roy depended on him. He needed to remain focused.

The besieged man intentionally shut down his own feelings. There would be time to deal with them later. Taking another deep breath, he calmly started the report.

"Rampart this is Squad 51, at scene with Squad 16 how do you read me?"

"We read you 51, go ahead." Kel's body stiffened with sudden understanding. If 51 were on scene with 16 then it was Roy or Bob. He broke out in a cold sweat. The lurking headache abruptly flared to life.

"Rampart, we have a 36 year old male who fell approximately 16 feet, to a concrete surface below and trapped under building material. . . ." Patient is cold, clammy and pale in color. He is cyanotic. We have him currently on 15 liters of 02 by nonrebreather. There are multiple broken ribs concentrated on the left side. Signs for a flail chest are negative. Both legs show tib/fib fractures along with a fractured right ankle." Taking a slow breath, his voice now held a slight tremor. "Um . . . both legs were pinned beneath a wooden beam for approximately forty minutes before being relieved of the pressure. A femoral artery pulse in both legs is slow but steady. Sensation in both legs diminished. His hand rose unconsciously toward his head, "he has a large contusion over his right eye along with a slight laceration. There is a significant bump near the base of his skull behind the left ear. Probable concussion, though negative signs for blood or fluid in the ears. He has suffered a three inch scalp laceration to the back of the head, bleeding has slowed after direct pressure applied." He paused for breath. "Patient has suffered a radius and ulna fracture of the left arm. It has been immobilized. Taking another shaky breath, he continued. "Blunt trauma to the abdomen apparent. There is abdominal bruising with distention in upper right quadrant. Slight rigidity is present." He finished his report, "Superficial burns are present in and around neck area. Patient is suffering from smoke… as well as plaster dust inhalation. Wheezing is audible. Patient has complained of severe low back pain with bleeding. Cannot confirm at this time Rampart, will advise. Permission to a start IV with lactated ringers." Johnny paused and Brackett came back immediately.

"51 what are the vitals?"

"Vitals …Bp 90/50… pulse 120, respiration 30 and shallow. Pupils are equal but sluggish. Semi-conscious when we first arrived, now unconscious. Ambulance is on scene."

While Johnny remained professional, Brackett could plainly hear emotion strain his voice. His gut twisted. The injuries were extensive and he knew who sustained them, but confirmed just to be sure anyway. "51 who is the injured code I?"

"It's . . . Roy."

He'd known yet still felt as if someone kicked in the stomach. "Ten-four, 51." Distracted, Kelly watched as Dixie reacted to the news. Her body tensed, as eyes widened. One hand rose to her mouth to stifle her surprised gasp. He wanted to comfort her but instead turned his attention back to the transmission.

Brackett's strained voice became sharper, "51, start two IVs of Lactated Ringer's. Take spinal precautions, Immobilize fractures. Let's see if we can raise his blood pressure. Get him into a G suite. Place sterile dressings over burns. You have standing orders to intubate if condition deteriorates. Cover and keep warm. Monitor vitals closely. Transport immediately.

Brice began preparation to insert the IVs even before Gage finished the transmission.

Johnny faltered, "Ah . . . Rampart we can administer IVs but negative on legs splints, suite and transport." Breaking with protocol Johnny told Bracket, "Roy is bleeding from the lower back. There is a possibility he may be suffering from a penetrating trauma."

Dixie visibly drooped.

"51 how much longer before you have him extricated?" Hank was monitoring the call as he worked. He could hear worry and frustration in Brackett's tone and a mounting apprehension in his paramedics. After hearing all of Roy's injuries, he knew why!

"Under ten minutes."

"10-4 51, keep us advised. We'll be standing by."

Brackett turned to Dixie once the transmission ended. He knew Johnny would move heaven and earth to get Roy out of whatever situation they were in, but things weren't sounding to stable. "I don't like it Dix. Roy's suffered a heavy amount of trauma." Brackett sighed. "Let's hope Johnny keeps him stabilized. Pull Roy's medical chart. Have operating room one on stand by. Alert Dr. Morris in Orthopedics we're going to need him. "If treatment room two is empty set up for their arrival, if not, use four. Inform X-ray a critical trauma case is coming in. I want them in here as soon as Roy arrives. He'll need films of the pelvis and tibia, along with chest and abdominal films, arm, a skull series and lateral c-spine.

Her shoulder's heavy with sorrow she turned to carry out his orders.

"Dix?"

Dixie stopped and turned a tissue now in hand dabbing at her watery eyes, "I know what you're going to say Kel. Don't worry because worrying does no one any good anyway?"

"No although sound advice. What I was going to say . . . Roy's young, healthy, and he has something working in his favor."

"What's that Kel?"

"Johnny."

Dixie gave him a weak smile and headed off. Brackett walked toward his office and the telephone. Roy's wife deserved hearing such overwhelming news from a friend.

* * *

_Authors note: If I have left anything out medically, or wrongly dispensed advice my apologies. All mistakes are mine. I did try to research before posting. Thanks go to Doc. Dave for letting me know the correct amount of oxygen to dispense . . . ._

_Bellingham__ works out of 16 for this story and Brice from 36. _


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

_This chapter update is a long one folks. Leave your reviews!  
_

To Save a Life

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Four

* * *

His decision made, Johnny ran a hand down his perspiring face, and shared it with his fellow fireman. Every instinct was warning him they were out of time.

The IV was in and 'hanging' from an improvised pole taken from the rubble. "Marco grab the backboard."

Looking over to his grim paramedic, Hank could see him being emotionally drained. "A little longer John and we're home free."

Keeping his doubt to himself Johnny took in a deep breath and slowly released it.

With broken ribs, and difficulty breathing, moving Roy at all would be painful for him and not without risk. The one positive note; sensation in the lower extremities and movement in the upper body, chased away the fear Roy suffered from a broken back. They weren't out of the woods. Since there could be other underlying spinal issues, it became imperative Roy remain immobile.

A buzz of voices brought Roy to awareness. He tried to concentrate, a persistent ringing in his ears made sound difficult. Lucid moments were becoming harder to maintain.

With Roy conscious once again, Johnny found himself wishing he'd stayed out a little while longer. Resigned to what would happen next, he kept his voice low and explained, "We're gonna remove your tank and slip you onto the backboard. Before we can do it I need to exam your back. If I could I'd spare you, I would. It will be painful Roy I'm sorry."

Speech made by difficult by a throat as dry as a desert, Roy managed, "Not . . . your fault . . . "

Gathering mental strength Johnny instructed the others, "Ready?" On my count of three."

Everyone worked in unison. Johnny's scissors sliced through the air tank straps. He cautioned, "Steady . . . steady, Brice, Marco, keep him still."

A strangled gasp escaped from Roy as the tank's straps came free. There was no other way for Roy to describe what he felt other than he was in hell, and his body was in the flames. He couldn't stem the sob that robbed him of what little energy he had left. "It's almost over." Marco encouraged his heart torn watching his friend suffer.

Hank reached in taking the weight of the tank. As it slid free everyone sighted the red tinge discoloring it's surface. Marco and Brice's steady hands, kept Roy from completely falling flat.

Hank scrunched up his nose when Johnny cut through Roy's turnout coat, to better view the rod. The odor of blood reached his nostrils.

Concentrating, Johnny's fingers inched their way along the offending rod. As his fingers felt ridges, he recognized with sickening clarity this was a corkscrew rebar, sheered in half. He came into contact with the end as it met his fingers. It rested very close to, but no longer touching flesh. He searched for the other half but found no evidence of it.

"This part is over Roy," Johnny soothed. He probed the point of entry. Nothing protruded indicating Roy's back was clear!

The immense relief he felt lasted only seconds, as slowly, carefully, he withdrew the instrument of his friend's suffering. He held it in his hands . . . hands now red. The enormity of Roy's situation hit him head on. A guttural shout of helpless fury erupted from deep within. He flung the offending rod away with such force it sailed across the room to strike the far wall. It clattered noisily to the floor. Breathing heavily, eyes shut tight fighting the nausea gaining a foothold; he unconsciously ran his hands down his turnout pants. Shocked stillness held everyone in its powerful grip.

Hank watched Gage struggle to maintain control. "Hang tight John we're almost out of here."

The frustrated medic looked to his captain prepared to apologize. Hank softly said, "We all understand."

The moment passed. "Let's roll him on three," Johnny said.

As soon as he moved, Roy's agonized plea reached out to them all. "Please! No . . . more."

Hardly recovered from his last bout with emotion, Johnny flinched as if physically struck.

The disturbed medic hung his head for a brief moment. "I have to do this," Johnny whispered forcing his hands to continue. He sliced through the layers of clothing, hands shaking. "It's almost over Roy." The words sounded hollow.

Hank swallowed hard. These were his men! Johnny was as much a victim as Roy. Hank knew he was losing his objectivity when he asked, "John?" His voice unsteady, "can't you give—"

The question interrupted with a negative shake of the head by his paramedic. "God, Cap, I wish I could . . ."

"Rampart won't authorize it," Brice said stepping in, "not with a head injury. DeSoto's been unconscious, and is drifting in and out."

Johnny shot Brice a grateful look as the intervention gave him time to collect his runaway emotions and focus.

Silently Marco resorted to praying harder. He fought his own sense of helplessness as he watched Johnny work to save their friend. So many injuries! To have this happen to Roy was beyond his understanding.

"There's a puncture wound Brice, no impalement."

As feared, the rod pierced through Roy's turnout coat and punctured his back. It pulled free at some point, leaving in its wake an ugly one inch hole. The penetration ran deep. The wound bled slowly for sometime. The left kidney was in the vicinity of the wound and Johnny's thoughts raced._ They had to get him into the anti-shock trousers, before he bottomed out. First, the bleeding needed to be controlled and the wound bandaged. _

At every touch, Roy groaned and his coughing grew weaker.

"Johnny, remember. . . ."

"Remember what Roy?" Johnny questioned, at a loss.

"Your promise."

Fear's ice cold finger ran the length of Johnny's spine. God, he remembered the conversation . . . the promise.

Firmly he replied, "Roy you're gonna make it." Bile burned his throat as it rose. He swallowed it down.

"Cap would you update Rampart?"

Hank detected shakiness in John's tone as he reached for the bio-phone. "Rampart this is squad 51."

"Go ahead 51," Dr. Brackett replied immediately.

"Rampart, patient has suffered a puncture wound about an inch in diameter to the left lower region of his back near his kidney. Estimated blood loss is 400cc. Bleeding is being controlled at this—"

"Lopez, look out!"

A loud crashing, choice expletives, and raised voices came through the bio-phone. "Things sound pretty hairy in there," Dix commented to Mike Morton who'd joined them at the base station.

"It sure does," Mike said. "The place sounds like it's coming apart…"

Brackett waved them to silence as Hank resumed his report. "51, has the patient been extricated yet?"

"Negative Rampart. Update is for information only."

"10-4 51, standing by."

After ending the transmission, Hank moved closer to Craig and Marco. "Lopez you get hit?"

"I'm fine Cap," Marco said. "How long have we been in here?"

Looking down at his watch Hank was surprised at what he discovered. "Twenty five minutes," Hank answered. It felt much longer. He turned his attention to Brice to find the usually detached paramedic immersed in deep thought. "How are you holding up Craig?"

Hank watched as Brice blinked, pulling his mind back from some unhappy place. "I'm fine Sir."

Brice wasn't fine. Hell, none of them was! They were in a battle against time to save the life of one of their own. It left everyone reeling.

Brice settled back into his thoughts. Hank wondering how he could do that in the mist of such chaos.

* * *

As Craig waited for Gage to finish bandaging the injured man's wound, he concentrated on holding DeSoto steady. By all accounts, DeSoto was on borrowed time. The injured paramedic's lips had a blue tinge to them.

He'd long since trained himself to remain distant, to go by the book, thus enabling him to avoid becoming embroiled in the heightened emotions of those working around him. These two traits earned him the title of _World's Perfect Paramedic._ When he first became aware of the nickname, he felt disappointment in his colleagues, chalking it up to jealousy. As time wore on, he cared less about what others might think. He did his job and he did it well.

So why then, he argued with himself, am I experiencing such uneasiness, and self-doubt? Tension held him in a tight fist.

As Craig continued to hold the fallen paramedic still, it became clear why this situation stripped him of his disciplined order, making him feel vulnerable. He admired this man who now fought to stay alive. While he endeavored to be the departments best paramedic, Roy DeSoto, actually was that man; respected and well liked. All of 51's men were extremely close.

Craig scowled. To have answered his own question gave him cold comfort.

He turned his head and watched Lopez whose lips moved silently as the man prayed. Religion had no place in Craig's world. The many tragedies he'd experienced some on a personal level, and zero miracles, left him in serious doubt. This day couldn't end soon enough for 36's paramedic.

* * *

Bleeding controlled, Brice and Marco gently rolled Roy the rest of the way onto the backboard. Debris dropping all around them heightened nerves already on edge. Stress noises were more frequent. The spidery lines snaking along the walls, widened into furrows. Johnny silently hoped the building wouldn't cave in burying them all.

Without warning, Roy vomited. Hands immediately rolled him to the side. When the vomiting stopped, Johnny watched his friend slip into unconsciousness.

They strapped Roy to the backboard and lowered him into stokes. Tucking the IV bags underneath his shoulders, the oxygen canister to the side, they were ready to move out. Large sections of the ceiling were falling regularly now. Everyone's eyes constantly scanned overhead for incoming projectiles, the water logged and damaged floor above no longer able to handle the weight.

Hank raised the HT to his lips, "HT 51 to engine 51 we're coming out.

"Engine 51, 10-4." Hank heard his engineer's relief.

"HT 16 to squad 16." Bellingham we'll need the shock trousers."

"Copy HT 16."

Hank grabbed the bio-phone and trauma Box, Marco the drug box, both men moving ahead while Johnny and Brice carefully carried each end of the stokes. They hadn't progressed very far when they all heard the slow ominous rumble overhead. _Shit. _Hank thought, "She's coming down!"

Every firefighter knew what an imminent collapse sounded like. Even before the shouted warning, both men instantly lowered the stokes.

In a desperation move, Johnny reached out and yanked Brice by his arm, forcing the bewildered man face first flat over the stokes, while flinging his body over both. Bracing his arms to either side of the metal basket Johnny formed a loose _cover_ length-wise over them.

Craig wasn't sure what happened. One second he was going into a protective stance. The next, he was lying face down; sandwiched between DeSoto and Gage. All hell broke loose as the ceiling gave way.

Unprotected Johnny's back took multiple hits. Water logged plaster slammed into him from different angles, giving no quarter. He grunted. His helmet was knocked sideway deflecting debris. He caught a glancing blow from something . . . Bright bursts of light danced before his eyes. Pain communicated with his brain. He fell forward into Brice. Johnny's right arm lost its purchase on the side of the stokes basket and slipped into the newly fallen rubble. A sharp stinging pain traveled from his wrist to his elbow. He listed to the side, falling into the rubble, groaning. Dazed and dizzy he lay there coughing, then went still.

"Oh my . . . God!" Hank the first to recover pushed the light debris from his body. In-between coughing spasms, he forcefully shouting, Brice! Gage! Lopez? Report." How's DeSoto?" Plaster dust was falling everywhere making it difficult to see or breathe. Heart in his throat Hank waited for replies. "HT 51 to Battalion," Hank automatically reported. "We've had another collapse. Assessing. Hold for report."

"Holding Hank," was the instant unorthodox reply.

If fortune smiled, it was in the form of the collapse being a small one.

"Cap I'm fine," Marco called immediately, coughing as he picked his way back toward the paramedics, to render what aid he could. Both he and Captain Stanley were further ahead missing the heavier debris from the main collapse. Hank followed his junior firemen toward the downed men. Hank favored his right leg.

The tension mounted, as he feared the worst for all three. Roy's body couldn't possibly sustain another injury! Fear settled deep into Hanks gut as seconds ticked by without either man answering. Bringing the HT to his mouth about to call for assistance, he watched with a tremendous sense of relief as Brice stood on his own. Looking shaken, the replacement paramedic realigned his crooked glasses, clutching his left arm against his chest. Face contorted with controlled pain, the by the book paramedic answered, "Cap, I'm unsure about the arm, but not injured otherwise."

"DeSoto, Gage?" Brice automatically turned to check on his colleagues. He took Roy's pulse. Roy's body was insulated from falling debris by both Gage's body and his own. His pulse was weak but steady. Gage saved his life by purposely using his body as a shield! Shaken by what just happened, he looked down to see his protector lying with eyes closed. "Gage?" he called moving in to check him over.

_Okay one standing and one to go. _Hank looked apprehensively to his unmoving man.

Almost bowling Brice over in his haste to reach his fallen comrade Marco bent over the supine man.

"Johnny!" Marco anxiously called. _"Johnny no tu también!_!"_ (Johnny not you too!) _

Lying with eyes closed Johnny muttered, "Marco, I'm _okay_ just making sure I have all of my parts." Johnny's eyes opened, giving Marco a weak grin.

Marco couldn't believe his ears. Was he wisecracking? "Johnny this is no time to joke!" Marco shot back agrily, grateful to the heavenly father for not adding another injured brother to the list.

"Who's joking?" His brain catching up with his surroundings, Johnny almost panicked. "Roy!"

"Pulse weak but steady Gage, his condition hasn't changed."

Hank sent up a prayer of thanks as his paramedic slowly gained his feet. "John you okay?"

"You were out cold for a minute Gage," Brice whispered helping the unsteady man to his feet.

"Keep your trap shut. I'm okay."

Brice didn't believe him. He should report him, but kept his mouth shut.

Keeping his face neutral, Johnny tried shaking off the pain in his side and back. His arm hurt stung like crazy! He flexed it. It wasn't broken. His back was already sore from falling on his air tank earlier. He'd have one whopper of a bruise for sure, along with a stiff neck. Might as well throw in a couple of bruised ribs too he contemplated; he hoped they weren't broken. The side of his head throbbed. He shrugged it off. They didn't have time to stop now.

Hank continued to watch in concern as John wore a slightly dazed expression and hadn't answered his question. He'd taken the brunt of the debris across his back. He was lucky he was standing! Hank caught the momentary grimace as John stood."

"Gage how is DeSoto?" It took a few seconds for Johnny to realize Cap was addressing him.

"DeSoto's vitals remain steady." Brice supplied for his somewhat dazed companion.

Hank asked the question even though he knew what the answer would be, "Do either of you require immediate medical attention?"

"No!" both men said in unison as they looked at each other.

When Johnny bent down for the stokes a bit unsteadily Brice whispered to him urgently, "You maybe concussed. This is not a sound idea Gage."

"No, maybe not," the other agreed then added, "Roy is our number one priority."

Brice couldn't argue with the truth.

Hank didn't hear the whispered exchange of words. He instructed Marco, "Lopez help carry the stokes, Brice take the drug box." Once again, they were heading out.

As the adrenaline started to wear off Johnny began to feel the stirring of discomfort across his body. His arm hurt. His headache was growing behind his eyes. The room moved then steadied. He shook his head trying to clear it and fought the urge to cough. He pushed his panicky feelings deeper down. No time for them. His friend needed him. _Just hang on, _it was a plea meant for both of them. . . .

Hanks HT sounded. "Battalion 14, to Captain Stanley, Report."

Before speaking into the HT, Hank looked at the two battered paramedics for a long moment. Both reported being okay. Both were _walking_ and _talking._ Both told him they didn't require immediate medical attention. They didn't seem to be in imminent danger. Roy was their priority first and foremost. "HT 51 Stanley to Battalion, everyone is accounted for chief."

"10-4, 51."

Brice following the conversation snickered. Gage wasn't the only one who could be evasive. He had a choice to make; he could voice his concern over Gage, or say nothing. For the second time in less than a minute Brice chose to say nothing with the intent of breaking silence once they were out of the building.

* * *

Multiple thoughts ran through Hanks mind as they made their way to daylight and safety. In the role of captain, it was his job to maintain the safety of his men! When situations went awry, he felt personally responsible. Hell, his head pounded and his insides felt like jelly. Roy was not just any victim, but a member of their 51 family, a husband, father, and a good friend to everyone on A-shift. His two paramedics were best of friends, close as brothers.

Hank rarely second guessed orders he was given or those he gave; he did so now as doubt wore him down. Had he waited too long to give the evacuation order? Only four went in. Was this the right choice? It felt like hours since they started, in actuality they were inside with Roy for thirty-two minutes. It was the longest, adrenaline pumping, thirty-two minutes Hank remembered having in a long time, but they finally had Roy free.

Loud creaking followed them out. Dark spidery lines were appearing everywhere along the walls. _Give us a few more minutes' girl_.

Hank glanced at all three men.

Marco's face showed immense compassion and worry.

Brice wore his usual stoic expression but it didn't fool Hank. Craig wasn't as unaffected as he'd have everyone believe. He looked worse for wear, but Hank could see, physically, he'd be okay.

Lastly, his eyes shifted to his youngest member.

Gage, while calm, wore the look of a man who'd passed through the seven stages of hell. John didn't come away unscathed from this latest collapse . . . one did not become captain by failing to observe. The man did a find job of covering his discomfort.

"Gage, are you sure you're all right?" He asked

"Yeah, Cap. Let's get outta here."

Hank trusted John to inform him if he were unable to perform his duty. But to play it safe he said, "Gage, I want you medically cleared before reporting back to the station. That's an order."

"Yes sir." Weariness laced his voice.

Hank sighed bone tired himself, 51 still had the rest of the shift to finish. The adrenaline rush which aided him was now gone. Fatigue invaded every part of his body. At times such as this, Hank felt inadequate as a captain. Nothing he said would change what happened. He stayed silent.

* * *

Johnny rubbed at his grainy eyes with his free hand as his thoughts wandered to another dark time in his life. They'd been called to the scene of a freeway accident. Of all the scenarios that could have greeted him he wasn't prepared for what did. His heart nearly stopped when he'd discovered a very close friend of his lying injured, and bleeding on the pavement. Despite their best efforts, Drew had died on the operating table.

Losing a good friend and then breaking the devastating news to his wife Pam had changed him. He understood the heartbreak left behind for those expected to carry on.

Stark reality slapped him in the face. Roy could die. If it came down to it, would he be able to tell Joanne?

He struggled to keep positive thoughts flowing.

* * *

He squinted as bright sunlight greeted them. They were out.

As soon as they cleared the collapse zone, Mike and Chet silently grasped each side of the stokes helping to carry their injured friend, and brother to the waiting ambulance.

A reverent silence fell across the area as 51's, carried their injured brother to the waiting ambulance.

As soon as the stokes rested on the ground with Bob helping, Johnny wasted no time in getting Roy into the anti-shock suit. The suit and IV's had the desired effect on Roy's blood pressure as it stabilized. They were set to transport. He signaled to the orderlies to place Roy in the ambulance.

"Medically cleared, the both of you." Hank reminded. "Lopez, take the squad in pal."

Marco acknowledged his captain a bit slowly.

"Marco," Hank said, "Good job in there."

Hank bent over the stokes. Mike and Chet stood off to one side, watching gravely.

Hanks eyes watered. Would this be the last time they'd all be together as a team? "Hang in there for us Roy," he said to the unconscious man. Placing a reassuring hand on Johnny's shoulder he gently squeezed, "we'll join you at Rampart just as soon as we can." Blinking hard he turned and limped away.

That leg needs to be examined, Captain Stanley," Brice called after him, "

"I'll get myself cleared at Rampart." His tone left no room for argument. Hank went in search of the battalion chief. Mike and Chet followed behind. Brice shook his head.

"Are you all right?" Bob gave his attention to his temporary co-worker.

"It's obvious. I Injured my arm."

Bob found himself gritting his teeth. Brice could be such an ass. "Want me to look at it?"

Brice shook his head. "No. I don't think it's serious."

"Gage you Okay?" Bob turning his attention to his tired looking friend.

This was Brice's opportunity to voice his concern but after the way Gage shot him a warning look he kept his mouth shut. Have it your way Gage, I'm done.

Johnny's voice laden by fatigue sounded stilted. Placing needed equipment in the ambulance he answered, "I just got the wind knocked outta me."

Bob didn't miss the look that passed between the two men. Something was up.

"Brice you riding in?" Bob asked.

"No, you go; I'll bring in the squad."

Surprised Brice said no. "You okay to drive?"

"I can drive the squad Bellingham; DeSoto doesn't have time for us to argue over it." To Bob, Brice sounded more like Johnny than_ the walking rulebook.'_ Bob shrugged.

Bob followed Gage into the ambulance. Brice closed the door thumping the window twice. Lights and sirens immediately came on, as the ambulance drove forward.

Brice breathed a long emotional sigh as the ambulance pulled away, followed closely by Marco in the squad. Soon the sirens faded.

At least they'd succeeded in getting DeSoto out alive, he thought as he slowly walked toward the squad. Craig didn't walk alone; the memory of his sister followed him.

His younger sister . . . hadn't been as lucky caught in a similar situation when they were children. It was his fault. If he hadn't dared her to enter the shaky building . . . someplace, they shouldn't have gone into in the first place. . . .

Being children, the mystery and curiosity of the old building had him daring his sister to enter with him. She hadn't wanted to go in, but he'd teased her until, to shut him up, she gave in. When they fell through the floor of the decrepit building into the basement below, he hadn't been able to help her. Her screams . . . and cries for him dwindled until only a horrible empty silence remained. . . . Help came of course, but to late to save his sister.

Reaching the squad, he passed up his ritual of locking the side compartment doors and slid his tired body into the driver's seat. He made no move to put the key in the ignition. Instead, he let his head sink down until his forehead rested on the steering wheel. No one bothered him.

He sat this way for a time before lifting his head. A shaking hand placed the key in the ignition. Suspicious bright eyes looked back at him through the rear view mirror.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

To Save a Life

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Five

* * *

"Go to the hospital Hank," the chief sympathetically, advised. "The station will stand down an hour, you should have definitive word on DeSoto's condition by then."

"Thank you sir."

"And Hank? Take care of that leg." He said

Making his way toward the engine Hank watched squad 16 roll out, with Brice in the driver's seat. The ambulance had left a few minutes ago. Brice normally rode in the ambulance with the patient; it was one of his numerous quirks. So why didn't he accompany Roy? Hanks thick eyebrows knit together in puzzlement.

"Let's go," Hank told Mike as he joined his engineer and linemen.

The uneasy feeling Mike experienced earlier stayed with him as he climbed aboard. If asked to explain his feeling the engineer wouldn't have been able to put it to words, so subtly did this sense work on him.

Smoothly guiding the big rig onto the highway, Mike thoughts centered around Johnny. Should the worst possible outcome play out, everyone on A-shift would experience loss, but Johnny would be devastated. He considered Roy his family. His friend would hold himself directly responsible. This would effectively destroy any faith he had in himself. Long before that, the man would quit the department.

His eyes shifted to the rear view mirror to find Chet staring down at the floor. While a good man, Chet tended to be obnoxiously outspoken at times. His fixation with pulling pranks mainly geared toward riling their youngest member, could get out of hand. Roy the prodigy of patience would be the one to come between the two, restoring peace to the station.

DeSoto was an integral part of the team. His steady reassuring influence, his voice of reason, and his strength of character, were qualities they all relied upon. Without his anchoring presence, Mike feared A-shift would fracture.

His mind continued to churn as they neared the hospital. He glanced sideways at his commanding officer engrossed in deep thought. He could well imagine what was working through his mind. As 51's leader, he also would hold himself responsible, but unlike Johnny, Hank would recover. He had his many years of experience, and his wife and family to fall back on. Mike slowed the engine to negotiate the turnoff to the hospital entrance.

The scenery flashed through the side window of the engine, in a blur. Hanks mind actively engaged around his two medics. As captain, he always knew an accident might someday claim the life of one of them. Being paramedics their job landed them in the middle of some of the most dangerous of situations.

As a family man, Roy enjoyed a certain status and respect among the men. He was both adviser and friend. Because of this, any time they needed advice the guys could turn to him for reassurance. Roy provided clear-cut answers. His senior paramedic could instill a sense of hope in others_._

His thoughts turned grim. He'd never lost a man while under his command, but the possibility loomed real today. Roy, the pillar of strength for those around him in times of crisis . . . lay in a life or death crisis of his own. He couldn't fathom losing _one_ of these men! The eventuality left him cold inside. He felt the engine slow. Eyes moving toward the front windshield, he was surprised to see the looming presence of the hospital ahead. He closed his eyes and silently prayed._ Give us the strength to deal with whatever comes our way_.

Mike asked, "Cap, is Roy going to make it?"

Before he answered, Hank looked behind him at Chet, who lifted his head at Mike's question. Hank desperately wanted to give them positive news but instead he told them the stark truth.

"Michael, it could go either way."

"Roy's made it this far." Chet answered trying to sound convincing though doing a poor job of it, "He's tough."

* * *

Johnny sat keenly watching the tiny blips of Roy heart beat, move across the small screen. His breathing hadn't changed it remained strained and noisy.

_I don't think you realize how much you're needed Roy so don't you quit._

Why didn't he notice the floor? He usually had a weird sense about these things. Maybe, just maybe, he could have prevented Roy's fall if he had picked up on it.

"_Roy__!" He watched in horror as his friend plunged downward. Instinctively moving toward the exposed opening, oblivious to the danger of falling in himself, or of the fire, his only concern was for Roy. Chet clasped his arm in an iron grip dragging him backward toward the front door and safety._

_Marco's voice could he heard yelling into his HT. "Code I, Cap Roy's fallen through to the basement we're gonna' need help!"_

"_Come on Johnny we can't do anything for Roy right now." Chet shouted. "We need help!" _

_Angry Johnny tried to pull out of Chet's grip. "No! I'm not leaving my partner!"_

_Chet spoke harshly, "don't be foolish man, and think! This won't help Roy! He's our friend too Johnny. We don't have a choice, Cap ordered us to leave! Now come on!"_

_Johnny knew Chet was right, but leaving Roy behind was the single most difficult choice he ever had to make. Guilt crushed him. _

_Before he let Chet drag him away, Johnny tackled the rampaging hose, still spewing water, and dropped it down the hole. As the hose hung over the edge, it swayed and danced spraying water in all directions. Johnny hoped the water would saturate some of the debris, thus keeping the fire from igniting the rubble surrounding Roy. He hoped it would protect him from the hot debris still reining down. _

_Was he alive? _

* * *

Coming back to the present, he rubbed his tired eyes and aching neck, trying to get comfortable by rolling his shoulders and arching his back. He'd forgotten about his bruised ribs and the arching caused him pain. The nausea intensified. His tremors finally observed by Bellingham seared Johnny with a critical stare.

"Johnny let me look at you."

"I'm fine Bob." He said testily, "Beside you heard Cap. I'll get cleared."

"I'll make sure you do it pal." Bob promised.

As they neared the hospital, Johnny thought of an incident, occurring last shift. Running late, due to heavy traffic on the 405, Johnny flew into the station. Being late resulted in l having latrine duty. As he came around the corner to the locker room, he careened into Roy who was just leaving it. Knocking the unsuspecting man off balance, Roy would have fallen had Johnny not swiftly reached out and grabbed his startled friend keeping him upright.

Roy gave his friend a suffering expression, "Aren't you a little old to be running in the hall? If you'd gotten here earlier Johnny, this could have been avoided."

"Uh . . . sorry Roy. The traffic was a nightmare this morning."

"No harm, no foul junior. I trust you to be prepared to run for the trauma box, one day."

"Huh?" Johnny said.

"You'll need it 'cause I'll be laying flat out from one of your little run ins." This came out lightly.

Johnny grinned. "Nah, don't worry, you'll have a damn good paramedic working' on ya."

Roy rolled his eyes. "Uh huh, if you say so, don't let me keep you. Roll calls in two minutes, and Chet has a bet with Marco that you'll wind up with Latrine duty."

The memory faded as Bob's voice cut into his thoughts, "We're here."

Johnny's eyes re-focused and he looked sadly down at Roy. "_God, I'm sorry. Please hang on." _

He didn't realize he'd spoken the thought out loud until bob said, "You've got to believe he'll make it, Johnny."

Questions weighed heavily on the younger man. Logically, Johnny knew they'd gotten to Roy in record time considering the amount of debris they'd had to clear. Still, did he do everything right?

"J-Johnny" a weak voice called.

* * *

Roy woke with the knowledge he was in an ambulance, and still in pain. He tried to suppress a moan. Blankets covered him but did not relieve the penetrating cold. An oxygen mask hissing air was ineffective in assisting his breathing. His chest hurt with each breath. The clawing monster in his abdomen was trying to make an escape. His head pounded relentlessly. His back was a throbbing hot poker. Death was close he felt it advancing and sadly he didn't have the strength to fight it any longer.

He knew Johnny was next to him.

"J -Johnny?" Roy called weakly.

"Roy, we're at Rampart they'll get ya fixed up in no time." Leaning over so Roy could see him, Johnny's voice while upbeat held a slightly hard edge. Their eyes locked. Brown ones gazed into blue. The younger man's face lost the brave smile, replaced by anxiety, shock, and fear at what Roy silently communicated.

_No Roy! You can't give up!_

Roy felt . . . calm. Everyone dies alone he remembered hearing once. He imagined every individual did make the solitary journey alone, but he'd also thought how comforting it was to have company to help ease the passing. Johnny was here now, just as he would be for his family later.

The Grey mist was closing in. He let go of Johnny's hand and pushed away his air mask, needing to speak.

"Pressure 60/40"

Johnny's eyes were large in his now bloodless face. He was desperately trying to keep his tenuous hold on his composure. Johnny grabbed Roy's uninjured hand and held on tightly, as if by doing so he would will strength into his friend. He felt light headed.

Johnny move!" Bellingham shouted.

The bay door of the ambulance opened. "Okay let's go people—"

Those outside watched in stunned surprise.

"Roy gasped. _"My family . . . love them for . . . me." _Roy's hand went slack within Johnny's grasp. His eyes closed.

Roy was slipping away. He couldn't stop it. The slight string that held his besieged emotions in check frayed and broke. "Not like this Roy! You don't get to quit! I need you to fight. You fight for, Joanne, the kids, and for me."

"Johnny he's stopped breathing!" Bellingham called out, placing the Ambu bag mask over Roy's face and began pumping. "Johnny we need to get him inside!"

_I won't let you do this Roy. _He stepped outside the ambulance, preparing to help wheel his best friend into the hospital.

"Lost his pulse!"

"No!" Automatically he attempted to step back into the ambulance to begin CPR when a voice and hand stopped him. "We've have this John."

The emotion he'd kept tight control over finally crumbled. His mind went blank. He backed out of the way. Johnny stood mute as he watched the crisis play out as both Brackett and Early took over.

"Get a code team to treatment room two!" Dixie who'd been waiting by the entrance immediately disappeared.

"Let's move it!" Brackett demanded.

The gurney with his best friends dying body disappeared through the emergency doors of Rampart, with Dr. Early riding on the gurney performing CPR. Bob rushed alongside holding the IV bags in one hand, and pumping the Ambu bag with the other, filling Early in on Roy's condition.

"We can't loose him . . . Doc."

Brackett heard the poignant appeal and spared Gage a momentary glance. Instantly red flags went up. The man looked physically ill. He leaned against the side of the ambulance in exhaustion and his hand pressed into his side. _What happened? _Johnny not following sent alarm bells clanging. . . .

"We'll do the best we can for him Johnny. I want you in a treatment room now. Have Morton check you out." Then he was gone.

The suffering paramedic could only stare, as the doors to the emergency room slide open enveloping the head of Ramparts emergency department, then closed.

Johnny would have followed two steps behind or alongside the gurney bringing in a patient. Today normality took second place to the emotionally beat up, exhausted man. It was an effort just to walk. Physically he hurt, as every muscle in his body tightened up. Like an old man, he shuffled one foot in front of the other, making his way inside the emergency department to the treatment room door. The walked stretched into an eternity. As he arrived, the Code team entered. Early was still performing CPR,Brackett Bagging, and Dixie's firm voice was issuing orders to the trauma nurse. Everyone knew his or her job. He didn't enter and the door closed.

"_Stay with us Roy..." _the heartfelt plea from Brackett authenticating the desperate situation.

Johnny didn't seek out Morton as Brackett ordered. He would, but not right now. Instead, the tired and hurting paramedic leaned his body up against the wall closest to the door. The solidness of the wall behind him felt reassuring. His legs quivered as if he'd run a marathon. His headache viciously pulsated.

Although, the treatment room door stayed closed, he could imagine what was going on behind it. Brackett would take whatever measures were necessary to save Roy's life. A light steadying touch to his arm startled him. He turned to find Marco beside him. Johnny comforted by Marco's presence, gave him a grateful look.

Marco became uneasy as he stood next to Johnny. Why was he out in the hallway and not in the room with Roy? You couldn't keep his friend out of the treatment room if he'd brought in any one of them, especially Roy! Standing next to Johnny who remained still, and taciturn, seemed totally out of place. A blank stare replaced his shift-mates usually animated expression and he leaned up against the wall as if he needed its strength to hold him upright! _Madre de Dios__, _Marco's stomach dropped. _He thinks Roy won't make it. _

Johnny questioned his actions. All his old insecurities rushed to the forefront. It was because of Roy and his family Johnny had come so far. If anything happened … _What am I still doing out here? Shouldn't I be inside with Roy?_ _He wouldn't abandon me like this. _

His thoughts confused, he stood rooted to the spot, dreading the opening of the treatment room door and the news he was sure to hear. _When it came to crunch time, hefailed._

Hospital personnel carried on with their daily routine. A feminine voice floated over the intercom system, paging doctors and hospital services. Johnny could see Dr. Morton manning the base station down the hall. The elevator doors opened revealing the portable x-ray unit. People were milling around the waiting room. A nurse stepped out of another treatment room carrying vials of blood and headed towards the lab. Life marched on. Johnny eyes locked with the clock on the wall.

"Someone needs to call Joanne," He said dully his glassy eyes glued to the clock.

"The hospital probably did, or Cap will take care of it," Marco supplied, "She'll be here soon."

A memory intruded unbidden. _"I promise you Joanne I will look out for him, keep him outta trouble."_ He'd made the promise after Roy nearly died from electrocution. He didn't do a very good job keeping his promise today. He imagined how Joanne would react. Joanne's eyes condemning as she spoke, "_Partners are supposed to watch out for one another Johnny. Didn't you tell me you would keep him safe? You broke you're promise to me." _Emotionally numb, Johnny closed his eyes shutting out her face. Joanne was right Roy trusted him with his life and he'd failed.

Finding speech difficult he said, "Joanne may not make it in time," glazed eyes opened and strayed to the clock on the wall.

_This wasn't Johnny! _Shocked at his friend's emotionless state, Marco hoped Cap would arrive soon. Cap always knew what to say.

Brice coming into the ER took one look at Gage and knew he hadn't seen a doctor yet. Glancing down the hall to the base station, he saw Morton. It was time he broke his silence. Bellingham stepped out of the exam room just then, and Brice called to him.

Bob glanced toward Brice when he heard his named called. Brice inclined his head toward Johnny. Bob looked to the other half of 51's paramedic team. He'd stepped out of the room to find out what had happened to John. He'd never leave Roy alone for this long, especially since…. He was shocked at John's appearance. Breathing shallowly, vacant eyed, his body trembling, it didn't take a paramedic to see he was in trouble! He shot Brice a _why didn't you do something about this look._

Reaching the afflicted man in one long stride, he reached out and firmly took hold of Johnny's arm. "John lets go sit—"

Marco turned confused eyes on Bob, while Bob did the same toward Johnny when the man moaned, his face losing the remaining color it had. Pulling his injured arm from Bob's grasp Johnny embraced it to his chest eyes tightly closed leaning heavily against the wall. The shaking he'd controlled up to this point took over and he was unable to stop it ferocity.

Brice's HT barked, "Squad 16 what is your status?" Brice ignored it.

"Gage you with us?" Brice who'd come to stand in front of the dazed man insisted sharply, giving him a slight shake. "Doctor Morton!" he called down the hall. Then immediately he spoke into the HT. "LA Squad 16 is unavailable at Rampart General!" The dispatcher's answer was lost in the confusion of the moment.

Johnny heard the whine of the defibrillator, adding to the numbing chills afflicting him. The zap of the defibrillator was sharp. His minds eye imagined Roy's body lifting off the gurney as the electricity surged through him. His partner's heart had stopped for the second time because of a job related accident. Now as in then, control of the situation remained out of his hands, making his helplessness acute. His training and knowledge was not enough to keep this moment at bay. Fates fickle hand lay heavy on his best friend and time had run out.

"_No conversion, hit him again. Administer Epinephrine 1mg IV push C'mon Roy! We're not giving up and neither are you!" Brackett encouraged. . . ._

In wicked triumph, his physical aches deepened. The room began to shrink. His vision dimmed and narrowed. A loud roaring filled his ears. "Marco . . ." He called blindly reaching out for support. He felt a hand grasp his upper arm, "Johnny?"

_"Epinephrine in is."  
_

"One, two, three, four… clear!" reflexively his body jerked.

_C'mon__ Roy!" Brackett demanded. "Charging to 400 watt seconds."  
_

The clock began to waver, losing focus. The loud roaring interfered with his hearing. His legs buckled sending the exhausted paramedic toward the floor, vision narrowing until only a pinpoint of light remained.

"Whoa, easy, Johnny I have you." Bob lowered the stricken man to the floor cradling Johnny's head so it wouldn't impact the hard surface.

"Johnny!" Marco's frightened voice rang out as he watched his friend collapse.

Bob's hand came away from Johnny's head spotty with blood.

"What the hell? We need a gurney over here!"

"Get him to treatment three" Morton's voice instructed. "What happened here Brice?"

Brice was looking decidedly guilty.

Bob fumbled with Johnny's turnout coat trying to get it open. Johnny stared blankly up at his friend. "Take it easy Johnny you're gonna be . . ." Collective indrawn breaths were heard when they saw the blood staining the inside of Johnny's coat and saturating his shirtsleeve.

In dismay Bob demanded, "Damn it Johnny! Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Mi Dios." Marco's voice came from far away. Then he heard nothing more.

The battle to save Roy's life went on. . . .


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with 'em._

To Save a Life

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Six

* * *

Pandemonium reined, as those in the hallway dealt with a now unconscious Johnny. As with any commotion, a few curious on-lookers gathered to watch as hospital staff dealt with the patient on the floor. Once lifted onto a gurney, and wheeled into a treatment room, they dispersed.

"On three."

Once Johnny was transferred to the exam table Doctor Morton repeated, "Brice, I asked you a question. What happened here?" Lifting one of John's closed eyelids and flicking his penlight back and forth, he let the eyelid close and quickly repeated the action on the other eye. Placing his stethoscope against the comatose man's chest, he listened to his lungs, satisfied his breath sounds were clear.

"Since you're here Bellingham, start an IV with normal saline," Morton barked.

The doctor started cutting through Johnny's clothing. "Brice!"

"We were hit by debris, Gage taking it mostly across his back." Brice began, "He told us he was fine. Once we had DeSoto free, the orders were to bring the patient in immediately. I suspected Gage might be concussed. He started showing delayed signs of distress out in the hallway, just before his collapse."

Standing near the door Marco confirmed, "Brice is telling it like it happened, Dr. Morton. Johnny repeatedly told us he felt okay."

Ignoring Marco, the emergency room doctor shot Brice an inquiring look. "And you decided to keep this information to yourself, because . . . ?"

In typical Brice fashion, pushing his glasses against his nose, he stated matter of fact, "I decided to take Gage at his word. Our priority was DeSoto."

"Well I hope for your sake Brice, the decision doesn't cost you."

"Wait a minute Doc," Bellingham intervened, not at all liking the docs tone. "Brice did everything he was supposed to. John kept insisting he was fine. Captain Stanley ordered him medically cleared once we reached the hospital." Bellingham wanted to say more but realized now wasn't the time.

"Humph," the doctor answered, examining the nasty laceration on Johnny's arm. "I'm sorry to hear about DeSoto," his sympathy genuine. Morton could appreciate how rough this was on them. "But I have to tell you, it's no excuse for not declaring an injury Brice."

"No, Bellingham," Craig stopped Bob from saying anything. "Doctor Morton is correct. I take full responsibility. I let Gage's emotion sway me into not reporting his possible injury."

"Don't go throwing yourself against you're sword just yet, Brice," The doctor's words surprising, "Let's find out what's wrong with him first."

* * *

Once the X-ray techs entered, he felt in the way. Marco quietly slipped from the room. While he felt Morton's bedside manner needed major overhaul, Johnny couldn't be in better hands. He headed for the hospital chapel. He could do more for his friends in there. He let the station nurse know where he'd be, so the rest of his friends would find him once they arrived.

Alone in the small silent room of the chapel, Marco felt peace steal over his weary soul. He bowed his head, and prayed for his friends. So immersed was he in this task, a slight shake to his arm startled him. He lifted his head to find Dixie seated next to him. Tear streaks tracked down her pretty face.

"The guys are waiting for you. I have news on Roy," She told him softly.

Marco was afraid to hear it, but he dutifully followed her to where his friends were waiting in anxious anticipation.

* * *

Indeterminate noises entered his awareness. The soft tread of a shoe moving across a bare floor. A tiny clink, as something touched a metal tray. He smelled perfume, and then felt a warm hand against his wrist.

Slowly his brown eyes opened to the harsh, bright, overhead light of a treatment room in Rampart. Moaning he reached up attempting to grab his head, and to shield his eyes from the powerful light. Firm hands restrained him.

"Easy."

Dixie McCall's sympathetic eyes gazed into Johnny's pain filled ones. She observed the careworn face, the dark smudges of fatigue and . . . hurt for him. She moved the light back so the direct glare would no longer blind him.

"Hello, Johnny."

Johnny's mouth felt like someone stuffed it with cotton. His head hurt!

"Dix? What happened?" He asked groggily.

Dixie frowned. "You've been out for a bit."

At a loss, Johnny couldn't remember how he came to be in a treatment room at Rampart. His left arm housed an IV. A light sheet and blanket covered him. He lifted one end to peer inside. His face colored as he realized his clothes were gone. Replaced, with a hospital gown. Why did his right arm have a bandage covering it and where was Roy?

"What's going on Dix?"

"You've been injured. How are you feeling? Wait—I wouldn't try to sit. . ."

He only made it halfway up. The room started to revolve along with his stomach. Battling nausea, he tried breathing deeply only to have his breath cut short by a painful pulling sensation along his ribcage. Dixie's quick hands helped him to lie back.

"Oh man," He moaned.

"Easy, John."

"Where's Roy?"

Avoiding his question Dixie said, "Focus on what happened to you Johnny." She watched him carefully, her frown deepening, a questioning gaze in her eyes. She turned to look behind her.

Concentrating, Johnny confessed, "I'm coming up blank," rubbing his forehead, "must 'a knocked my head but good this time." What did Roy say?"

Dixie gave him a pained look. "Johnny . . . Roy . . ."

The slight hesitation when she'd said Roy's name told him something was horribly wrong! His eyes widened. "What's happened?"

"Johnny what's the last thing you clearly remember about today," she insisted sadly.

His mind whirled_. It had to be bad._ _Dixie__ kept after him to remember. _His breathing increased. Intense concentration had Johnny sweating. He rubbed his temple harder.

Recollection found a way through the state of confusion.

Color instantly drained from his face that become as white as the overhead light. His face displayed undisguised misery. "_The warehouse fire!"_ Johnny felt bile rise. _Roy__!_

Watching the tortured man's coloring go from white to green, Dixie just made it with an emesis basin before Johnny started retching. With each heave, the pressure in his side increased. As the heaving continued, he felt a sharp stabbing sensation in the region of his ribcage. He cried out at the suddenness of it. Between the retching, the pain, and his agitation, he couldn't catch enough air.

"Can't b-b—breathe," he struggled, gasping like a fish out of water. When his stomach finally stopped contracting, he felt himself fading out.

A deeper voice pierced the fog. "Johnny you're going to be fine."

Dr. Brackett he thought vaguely. The fog became heavier.

"Get oxygen on him Dix, four liters to start."

A nasal cannula slid into place. Cool oxygen filtered in.

He continued to struggle for air. Self-recrimination tore his gut. _He'd failed everyone who believed in him. _He didn't deserve anyone's caring concern.

Brackett words to him were making no sense. As consciousness faded, Dixie took his hand.

* * *

Hank couldn't believe the turn of events. He glanced down at his man lying in the bed. When he'd left, John was walking and talking. He was kicking himself ten times over.

"Cap, you can't hold yourself responsible for this," Mike said quietly breaking the tension. His statement carried a double meaning.

"Mike, I appreciate the sentiment, but I should have stuck with protocol."

Chet thought the man had a point, but said, "Johnny's gonna to be fine, Cap. Doctor Brackett said so."

"He doesn't know about Roy," Marco said.

Hank glanced toward Marco, who, throughout the afternoon, became withdrawn.

"He'll be told just as soon as he wakes up. Lopez are you okay?"

"I don't know Cap." Turning he walked out the door, not seeing the frown of concern.

* * *

When Johnny opened his eyes, again he was alone in the room. He felt groggy like he'd been given a sedative. He had no idea how much time passed. A deep depression gripped him.

His attention turned toward the door as Dixie stepped into the room. Seeing her patient awake she broke out in a relieved smile "John Gage, you sure know how to worry a girl." Still smiling, she reached the side of the bed, pressing warm fingers to his wrist.

"Seems I'm good at making people worry."

She fussed with his pillow. "How are you feeling?"

A bitter smile lifted his lips. He fired off a volley of questions.

"How should I be feeling? How long was I out? What happened. And, most importantly, when do I get outta here?"

A despondent John Gage was something she hadn't faced before. Ramparts head nurse didn't like what she was hearing. She tried to coax a spark of emotion from him. She answered his questions in the same manner, and order they were asked.

"We'll get back to how you're feeling in a minute. You've were given a light sedative to help you relax. You've been asleep for about an hour. I'll let Dr. Brackett explain what happened. I'm hurt you don't like our hospitality, Johnny, are you trying to hurt my feelings?"

Her words had the desired effect. She witnessed emotions, from embarrassment—to guilt.

"No. . . I didn't mean . . . I just—" abruptly he demanded, "tell me about Roy."

Her face became guarded. "Johnny, Roy's—"

"Gone," he curtly finished for her. The numbness of shock began to wear off. "It's my fault, all of it. He trusted me to help him." He hung his head in defeat, the sadness in his voice intermixed with unshed tears . . . near the surface."

He only partially caught her next words. "Johnny you know better than . . . you did help . . . It's not . . . you need to listen . . ."

The impulse to escape strong, Johnny threw off the covering, and hopped down from the table. Feeling a tug at his arm he realized he'd stretched the IV line to it's limit, and now it was in danger of being ripped out. His abused body protested the suddenness of movement. He grabbed for the bed. The room spun crazily. He swayed drunkly, and he shut his eyes tight against the return of pain and the nausea. "I-I have to . . . get out of here."

Over the years, Dixie encountered many aspects of John Gage's personality, but being witness to two new ones in a short span of time had her flustered. A, cantankerous and resentful man she had no idea how to deal with. She fell back on what she knew how to do. Squaring her shoulders and stepping into character of Rampart's head ER nurse, she commanded,"you will listen to me, Mr. Gage. You are a patient of this hospital. Until you sign a paper that proves otherwise, you will get back up on that bed, without another word, and behave yourself. Do I make myself clear?"

Schooled in the art of taking orders, he knew better than to ignore such an authoritative voice. He gingerly sat upon the gurney.

Checking his IV line she scolded, "Fortunately for you Gage, that IV is still attached."

He felt suddenly foolish for his rash behavior. He couldn't believe he'd just upset Dixie! He'd rather walk off a cliff then make her angry!

She knew he would apologize almost immediately, and he didn't disappoint her, "Jeeze Dix, I'm sorry I didn't mean to upset . . . to . . . to give you a hard time. I just wanna go."

"You're not going anywhere Johnny, at least not yet." Dr. Brackett's stern voice sounded close by. "I want you to relax, and lie back."

When did arrive? Johnny hadn't heard the doc enter.

A nurse stuck her head into the room motioning for Dixie. "You need me Kel?"

"No, we're fine here," Dr. Brackett informed her.

As she left the room she patted his good arm and whispered, "behave."

Johnny in no mood to deal with Kelly Brackett simply withdrew. He wanted to go home to be alone with his grief. Feeling exposed, his sorrow drowning him; he needed time before . . . he needed time to brace himself for what was to come. _Roy__'s gone. . . Joanne . . . She'll blame me for not keeping him safe and she'll be right. _He closed his eyes to see the innocent faces of Chris and Jen. His eyes popped open banishing them from sight, only to find Brackett scrutinizing him.

Worn out, the tired paramedic lay back as directed. He wanted to disappear into the realm of sleep and forgetfulness. Tense, in pain, and miserable Johnny suffered in silence. Brackett came around the back of the gurney and cranked the bed into a sitting position easing the strain to his side.

"Better?" Brackett questioned. "We need to talk. I understand—"

"Is this really necessary?" Johnny asked, rudely cutting Brackett off, indicating the IV. "I have a couple of sore ribs and a headache right? Not a big deal."

Brackett's eyes narrowed, face tightening with anger, warning the paramedic he'd said the wrong thing.

Kelly chose his words carefully, controlling his rising temper. He knew Gage had been under a heavy amount of stress and wound up injured. Still it riled him to hear Johnny dismiss his injuries.

"I beg to differ with you Johnny I'd say it is . . . a big deal, and I'll decide what's necessary when you're here in my emergency department."

The man in the bed squirmed under the doctor's professional chastisement.

"Aside from losing consciousness, you are dehydrated. You have a mild concussion. Your helmet deflected the worst of the blow or it could have been worse. As it is, you'll probably have a powerful headache for a couple of days. He stepped closer to the bed. "You have serious bruising on your back and left shoulder. If you noticed, he indicated Johnny's bandages, it took twelve stitches to close a laceration in that arm. You lost a small amount of blood . . . and," he held up his hand to forestall Johnny's complaining, "you bruised two of your ribs, which due to your recent vomiting episode, probably caused one of those ribs to hairline fracture. I'm waiting on the x-ray results. You tell me," with each word his temper rose," if it's a big deal, Paramedic Gage."

Johnny remained silent not trusting himself to speak. Brackett was justified in his anger. Dr. Brackett stood in front of Johnny with his hands crossed over his chest, lips tightly compressed, fighting his anger. Anger partly aimed at himself, since he felt he'd known something was wrong with Johnny this afternoon, and didn't follow up.

"Why didn't you inform anyone you were in need of medical attention?"

"It happened just as we finished with the extrication. I didn't have time to worry about it Doc! Roy needed a hospital."

_Not that it did any good_, he thought bitterly

Brackett sighed, hardly surprised at Gage's answer. He'd heard them before.

"I take it I'm staying overnight?" Johnny pointed again to his IV.

"Yes for observation. Considering the out of character behavior I just witnessed from you, I think it's for the best."

Johnny turned his head away, dejectedly.

Brackett needed to pull Gage away form his self-induced punishment. "We need to discuss Roy," Brackett said.

The last thing Johnny wanted to do was talk about Roy. What was there to discuss anyway? _Roy__'s gone. What will I say to Joanne!_

"Johnny I want to tell you how—"

"Sorry you are?" Johnny finished his sentence, just as he had for Dixie. "Don't Doc! I don't think I could handle your sympathy right now."

"I wasn't going to give you any sympathy Johnny, and please stop interrupting." Brackett sighed, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "You did the best you could for Roy under very stressful conditions. From what hear, you saved your partner from further serious injury while protecting Craig Brice too. Roy—"

"I can't do this right now!"

Kelly closed his eyes his impatience mounting. Delaying the truth wasn't something he'd planned on doing. His patient, in a physically weakened condition, and high state of emotion needed to be treated with sensitivity. At the same time, he needed to hear the truth.

Coming to stand at the side of the bed Kelly spoke firmly to the dejected man, "I need you to listen to me."

Johnny watched curious as Brackett grabbed an emesis basin and held it in his hand.

"It's important you remain calm, John. Dixie and I have been repeatedly trying to talk to you about Roy. Johnny tried to protest but Brackett continued, "No, let me finish. I'm going to lay to rest a false assumption on your part."

He now had Gage's full attention. For the first time since awakening, Johnny allowed for a tiny spark of hope.

"You've jumped to the wrong conclusion."

_The spark grew to a flame._

"It is understandable you're confused."

"Doc what are you saying. . . ." He found himself holding his breath.

"Roy is upstairs in SICU. His injuries are critic—"

John's reaction was immediate and explosive. Head and body shot up at the same time causing his stomach and room to rotate, the dizziness severe. Brackett thrust the emesis basin in front of the heaving man and kept him from tumbling from the bed.

"Relax, breathe through it," Brackett encouraged not wanting a repeat of what happened earlier.

Thankfully, the episode was over quickly. Dr. Brackett took the basin away and helped the badly affected man, to lie back. "Take it slow Johnny," Brackett said moving to the sink to moisten a cloth. "Any abrupt movement will cause nausea." He handed his slightly green patient a the cloth to wipe his mouth. "I can order up something for the nausea, if it becomes too much."

"No, I'll be fine, just give me a minute." He took the offered cup of water Bracket held out for him with shaking hands.

Breathing hard, body tense, he wanted off this emotional rollercoaster. His feelings going from dark despair to overwhelming relief, in less time it took to blink, left his heart racing, and body protesting the abuse it just suffered. He took a sip from the cup before handing it back to Brackett. He closed his eyes against his awful headache, and forced his body to relax. He felt Brackett hand on his wrist, taking his pulse.

"Close to the reaction I was expecting."

Johnny gave the doc a weak grin.

Bracket pulled up a stool next to the gurney and sat down.

As the throbbing in both his head and side lowered to within tolerable levels, the news began to sink in. _Roy__'s alive! _

Brackett watched as joy in its purest form spread across the face of the man lying in the bed. Brown eyes sparkled with . . . tears.

Kelly couldn't help but feel the effect. Clearing his throat, blinking hard, Kelly smiled. Johnny's reaction reminded the head of Rampart's emergency department why he'd chosen the field of emergency medicine as his career.

Sensing his patient was calm enough to listen, Brackett explained, "Yes, with the help of stabilizing medications we achieved normal sinus rhythm. Conditions weren't ideal for surgery, but Roy couldn't wait any longer. Dr, Jenkins operated, discovering two small lacerations to the liver which he repaired."

"Did you find any spinal damage?"

The puncture wound on his lower back narrowly missed his spinal column Johnny, so no. There will be residual swelling, and for a time Roy may experience discomfort and tingling. It will cease once the swelling resides. The steel rod penetrated deep enough, and a debridement necessary. We'll watch for infection. We've placed him on an antibiotic drip to help with that."

"His kidney?" Johnny pictured the wound on his friend back.

"His kidney wasn't as fortunate I'm afraid." Brackett rubbed his neck. "It was severely bruised. We're monitoring the swelling and urine output closely. We've ordered the usual tests, and if it becomes necessary, we will do an intravenous pyelogram to see if his kidney is functioning normally. I have every confidence, Johnny, once the swelling subsides his kidney will recover."

"He took in a lot of smoke and dust. Are you concerned?"

Brackett nodded. "We've placed him on a ventilator until he better manages on his own.

"Did he lose much blood?" Listening to Johnny's questions, Brackett smiled inwardly. Here was the man he dealt with everyday.

"He's received five units to replace what he lost at the scene and during surgery."

"What about a concussion?"

He suffered a concussion, and he has three broken ribs. His left arm you knew was broken, along with his two fractured legs, and right ankle. What's remarkable in light of his fall, they are all stable fractures. He will need physical therapy to restore his normal range of motion.

Johnny blew out a sigh of relief. He'd been worried about permanent injury.

"Dr. Morris, Roy's orthopedic surgeon, and I, both agree, getting that beam lifted as quickly as you did, prevented permanent damage to his legs."

Johnny's insides clenched at what the result would have been . . . .

"Has he been conscious?"

"He came around briefly in recovery, but he's been sedated giving his body a chance to rest. He is critical Johnny, were not out of the woods, but if he gets through the next twenty four hours without serious complications arising, his prognosis looks excellent for a complete recovery."

Having Roy's condition explained in full detail was a lot to take in all at once. Rubbing a hand over his face Johnny exhaled.

"Is Joanne here?"

"Yes, as soon as Roy moved into the SICU, she went to make a few phone calls, and grab a cup of coffee. She came by to check on you. Your captain stayed as long as he could. Once Roy was out of surgery, and I convinced them you'd recover, they headed back to the station. You have some mighty worried friends."

Johnny vaguely remembered Marco standing next to him in the hall.

"I talked with Hank. He explained what happened to you Johnny. Protecting both Roy and Craig the way you did takes a great deal of courage. Roy was lucky you where there."

Johnny only said three words, but Kelly understood completely. "He's my partner."

Brackett nodded his throat threatening to close. Working with the fire department these many years showed him fireman were special individuals, willing to put it all on the line for a stranger. Another truth he'd come to learn, they supported one another, always.

"Hank's kicking himself for not following procedure, along with your friend Bob. What confuses me—and maybe you can help me out here—is why Brice, held back his report. He told Morton he'd suspected you'd been concussed."

"Doc, don't blame Brice it wasn't his fault!" Johnny immediately closed ranks, deflecting blame away from Brice, and unto himself.

This could get sticky for Brice. . . . If Morton felt strongly enough—they would put Brice in front of a review board!

"The victim always comes first. I was secondary. I could wait! In my defense, I did intend to have myself checked out . . . just as soon as word came back on Roy. I made the conscious decision to wait, it rests with me."

Listening to Gage's defensive explanation shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. Leave it to the young man, Kelly thought, to defend someone he doesn't even like.

How's Brice's arm? I think I caused the injury when I pulled him down."

"He has a sprained elbow, and some minor bruises."

Johnny felt relieved Brice would be okay. While he didn't like the man in general, Craig had volunteered under dangerous conditions to help a fallen brother.

"How's, Cap?"

"He suffered a contusion. The leg will be sore for a couple of days. "

Brackett's voice became stern once again. "I don't have to tell you about the importance of reporting injuries. I expect you to disclose them in the future."

"I'm hoping I won't have to be Doc. It would mean another trip to this room, and let me tell ya I'm tired of being in here! I've racked up more emergency room hours than anyone in the department!"

"An accurate statement, I'd say," Brackett said smothering a smile. "We'll see how you do during the night, but baring any unforeseen complications you can go home in the morning. You will be sore for at least a couple of weeks if not more, and I want you to rest. I am releasing you from duty for three shifts. We'll assess where you are after the time period is up."

Johnny's face took on a frown. His head's pounding became stronger. The thought of being in Caps office trying to defend why he'd kept an injury from him made Johnny cringe.

Brackett noted the mood change, becoming uneasy as he heard a slight groan. "Is something amiss, Johnny?"

Glumly the medic answered, "Yeah, you could say that. I imagine Cap isn't very happy with me. Chet will be gloating because it won't be him pulling latrine duty for a month!"

Brackett shook his head. Johnny could have been seriously injured, or worse, but he was worried over _latrine duty_!"

"It's not Hank, I'd be worried about." Hands crossed over his chest giving Johnny a firm look, his meaning clear.

Johnny looked sheepish for a moment. "I'm sorry for causing trouble, Doc."

Kelly Brackett smiled fondly at the dark haired man. "Trouble is what we handle Johnny, it's the added excitement we could do without."

"I'll keep it in mind."

"You do that." Brackett felt his own tension diminish, as he observed the younger man's demeanor. He was glad to witness Johnny's sense of humor return. He could see his patient tiring quickly.

"Why don't you try and relax. As soon as you are in your room, I'll have one of the nurses bring you to SICU. I'd rather not have you trying to sneak up there on your own."

Johnny gave Kelly Brackett a warm steady gaze. He owed him big. . . . What could he say to the man who helped save a life?

"Thanks Doc." It didn't seem sufficient but it came from his heart.

"Go on, hose jockey_,_ get some rest," Kel ordered gruffly though he couldn't be happier.

Today they had stopped death from knocking on the door.


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with 'em._

To Save a Life

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Seven

_

* * *

This chapter has changed in bits and pieces from the original version previously posted._

* * *

Over an hour later, a pretty nurse named Julie came to take him up to the SICU unit. Johnny didn't have the energy to strike up a conversation with her. Instead, he remained silent for the trip upstairs, and Julie, didn't feel the need to chatter. She pushed his chair to the side of Roy's bed, and set the brake, the IV gently swaying from the pole attached to the chair. She let him know she would be just outside the door should he need anything.

"I'll be back in ten minutes, doctor's orders."

An older nurse, who told Johnny her name was Hannah, was taking Roy's vitals, and he waited quietly while she performed her duty. Once she left the room he was alone, but not for long. Nurses came and went constantly checking vitals, and recording machine readouts.

He gazed upon his sleeping friend. He could see Roy's coloring much improved from earlier in the day. He was still pale, but no longer a deathly white, the bluish tinge gone, from around his lips. The bruises on his face were starting to become colorful. Numerous scrapes and bruises encircled his neck. The hair around his scalp laceration shaven to prevent infection produced a small bald spot. Both legs were in casts, elevated, and resting in leg slings. A plaster cast encased his left arm. Drop by drop, two IVs—one in each arm—and a unit of blood, replenished needed fluids to his body. A soft pillow cradled his lower back.

A tremor rushed through Johnny as he watched the ventilator breathe for Roy. The sound of the ventilator's automatically timed breaths, and the notion a machine aided your lungs by 'breathing' for you, made his stomach queasy. Goosebumps traveled up his legs and spread to his arms at the stillness of his friend's body. Even though assured Roy's chances for recovery was sound, seeing his vibrant partner hooked up to various machines and tubes disturbed him on so many levels. The steady beeping of the heart monitor showed a strong heartbeat. His friend was deeply asleep. He yawned. He wouldn't last much longer himself. The pain medication he received was slowly pulling him toward sleep. He reached between the rung of the bed's side rail, taking Roy's limp hand carefully in his. He began speaking in a low voice oblivious to all else going on around him.

"I know you can't hear me, Roy, but I need to tell ya some things." Something grabbed him emotionally for a moment. His eyes flitted away and closed. "It's hard . . . seeing' ya like this."

Solemnly he said, "I have liked to think as long as we're watching each others back nothings gonna happen. I was wrong! God, Roy, you gave up precious seconds to push me clear. Maybe those few seconds wouldn't have made much of a difference for you, but they did for me, and I can't help feeling guilty. You saved my life, and I-I broke a promise to keep you safe."

He repositioned his body as a muscle spasm grabbed his side. Johnny let go of Roy's hand and rubbed his eyes. He sat back trying to get comfortable. No matter what position he tried, nothing helped. He leaned his throbbing head against the curved section of the wheelchairs, push handle, taking the strain off his neck.

"Ya know, torn between being a paramedic in charge of your care, and a frightened friend, my professionalism was badly challenged. I actually questioned what I was doing." A haunted light entered his eyes and he shut them against the pain of remembrance. "On the ride in . . . I couldn't help remember the freeway accident. Drew lying on the ground; hearing his last words—the surgical nurse draping his body. I didn't know if I could handle another Drew. We have victims go sour on us, and while I never want to see it happen, they're strangers. Y-you . . . aren't a stranger, ya know?"

He stopped speaking for a long moment. When he resumed his eyes dropped to the floor, and his voice took on huskiness. "Right in front of me you coded, Roy! As they moved you into the treatment room, I stood in the ambulance bay—watching them take you—unable to move. When I finally followed, I couldn't go in the room. I-I didn't wanna remember you—_lifeless_. I hope when I tell you this again you won't think too badly of me."

Sitting up straighter, he tried relieving some of the pressure to his tender ribcage by repositioning his body. "Brackett told me how ya made it rough for 'em. You gave him some added gray hair no doubt." I understand what it was like for you, sitting here with me when I was sick. Must tell ya it's definitely no picnic being at this end. I'm sorry you went through it." An unsettled look crept into his eyes. "Oh, the dying wish of yours will have to wait, for a good long time, I hope."

Johnny bowed his head. God he was tired. Moving at all took too much energy. His eyes wanted to stay closed. The steady beeping of the heart monitor, ventilator, and Johnny's breathing, were the loudest sounds in the room. Leaning on the bed rail Johnny cradled his head in the crux of his left arm, careful of his IV. Within a matter of minutes, he was asleep.

* * *

A shaky Joanne DeSoto finally forced herself to move away from the door having heard every compelling word. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but stepping into the room as Johnny began speaking she found herself with nowhere to go. If Johnny were aware of her presence, he wouldn't have spoken. A few times unable to stop the tears, Joanne thought he'd turn around and spot her.

She brushed the tears from her eyes, happy to see him once again mobile.

Her husband wasn't the only victim today; Johnny's traumatized too. She felt horribly guilty. The promise she solicited from him that long ago day after Roy's accidental electrocution, now seemed selfish and cruel. It would also appear she wasn't the only one asking promises of Johnny. If the young man for one minute thought himself responsible, the emotional scars inflicted upon him would never heal!

After pulling herself together Jo walked over to the bed. Her eyes softened as she looked upon the pale and bruised face of her husband. When she'd first witnessed all his injuries she almost passed out. Dixie had quickly led her to a chair before her legs gave out. Even they warned her on what to expect, the extent of his injures, hooked up to the ventilator, all the tubes and lines running here and there, were enough to panic her. Her husband usually so vital, so strong, reduced to this still person lying in the bed, scared her to death!

Her gaze lovingly rested on him. It was a close one today Roy DeSoto… She thought you really stepped in it this time. I knew something was going to happen I could feel it! I didn't know how, or when, but I knew.

Joanne watched her husband breathe with the aid of the ventilator. Many times in the dead of night, had she awoken from dreaming this very situation? This afternoon when she received the news she couldn't move, think, or breathe. Then as the news sunk in, she experienced fierce anger at Johnny for not being able to protect him. A consuming anger that would devour her if she allowed it too. After the initial shock and once her mind could process again, she'd realized how unjust it would be for placing blame on Johnny. No matter how hard both men tried to be available to the other, it wasn't possible all of the time.

This morning she'd woken with a sense of dread she couldn't explain. She was overly clingy with Roy before he headed out the door. He felt her nervousness, asked her if she were okay, and made some comment about her need for getting more sleep. She'd grabbed him in a tight embrace, and shooed him out the door with a smile. The unsettled feeling grew stronger as the day wore on, the feeling the other shoe was about to drop. When the phone rang late this afternoon, and she recognized Dr. Brackett's voice, she had known.

When she'd arrived at the hospital an hour later, Dixie, escorted her to the doctor's lounge, the same room she'd waited in awaiting news after Roy's accidental electrocution. When Dixie opened the door, she found Hank, Mike, Chet and Marco, waiting on news. Johnny was not with them. She experienced acute fear for the second time that day. One reason alone would prevent Johnny from being here with his friends. The expressions on their faces, stole her breath away. Thank God, Roy worked for a wonderfully understanding captain.

"Roy?" she'd managed to utter, color draining from her face. "Johnny?"

"Roy's still in surgery Joanne, as far as we know he's stable," Hank assured her, guiding her to the sofa that Chet vacated. The rest of the crew greeted her politely, and then vacated the room to give her privacy; using the excuse, they needed coffee.

"Please tell me Johnny is okay." Fear strong in her voice she looked at 51's captain.

"A little worse for wear, but Doctor Brackett said he'll be fine."

Joanne closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "Tell me what happened."

Hank did. When he stopped speaking Joanne cried softly into his shoulder. He gently held her rubbing a consoling hand up and down her back letting her cry. After a few minutes, she'd lifted tear stained eyes to give him a watery smile.

"Sorry I usually don't carry on so."

"S'kay," he mumbled clearing his throat. "I can take it." Joanne gave him a little hug.

"I know how difficult this is for you," Hank said. "Why don't we go see if we can find out anything on Roy and John's condition shall we?"

* * *

She gently smoothed her husbands sandy locks. Alone in the stillness of the night the full import of what happened would hit her, and she would fall apart. The other fire fighter's wives would be a net of support for her. The time would come, however, when she would once again smile bravely as her husband walked out the door for a job highly dangerous, but one he loved.

Joanne's gaze slid toward the young man she adored like one of her own family. Johnny's face relaxed in sleep showed a faint vulnerability, a trait hidden from view when awake. A protective instinct welled up within her as she saw the bandages covering his injuries, and the IV inserted into his arm. He'd received those while protecting Roy! Someday, when time and distance blunted the impact of this incident, she may share with Roy what she overheard. Going around to the opposite side of the bed, she gave her husband a light kiss on the cheek. Tenderly she spoke. "I love you Roy. Chris and Jen give their daddy a big hug and kiss. Stay strong for us."

The door opened and a young nurse came inside heading for Johnny. Seeing that her patient was asleep, she hesitated. Joanne wanted to speak to Johnny before she took him back to his room, so she asked the nurse if she could have a few minutes alone. She'd agreed. "Just a couple more minutes though, he needs his rest." After checking Roy's machine readouts, she left.

Joanne leaned over and softly called his name, "Johnny?"

"Hmm."

Hearing a voice from a distance, Johnny opened sleep-weighted eyes to see Joanne leaning over him. He came instantly awake feeling as if someone had emptied a bucket full of ice water over him. He sucked in his breath at the pain the abrupt movement caused. He couldn't have been asleep for more than a few minutes since the nurse hadn't been back to get him.

He looked away from Joanne, avoiding eye contact guilt eating him alive. Instead, he transferred his gaze to the form lying on the bed.

"You look better than when I last saw you Johnny."

Anxious about this confrontation he didn't acknowledge her greeting. "God, Jo, forgive me," he whispered eyes begging for understanding. "I let you down. I couldn't keep him safe." The puppy eyed gaze became Joanne's undoing. He watched as the look of motherly concern wavered, and disappeared, replaced by the stern expression she used right before one of her children received, _a talking too_."

He hung his head, prepared for whatever she had to say. "I'm… so sorry." He repeated.

Pulling up a small chair, she sat, so she was level with him. She looked him directly in the eye. "John Gage, not another word! You have nothing… and I mean nothing—to be forgiven for."

She enveloped him in a warmhearted embrace. He suppressed a groan as his body complained over the rough handling.

"This isn't your fault," she continued, "and as much as you might want everyone to believe it, you're not superman. You didn't cause the floor to collapse. Do you think I want you to beat yourself up over it? Sure I'd rather not be here in this room panicked out of my mind, but it comes with the territory!"

Joanne suddenly burst into tears no longer able keep it together. Seeing the man she loved in SICU, and the man she loved as a brother take the blame for it, sent her over the edge. Johnny tightened his grip offering comfort. Her tears were causing his eyes to water. Her voice sounded muffled against his shoulder, "I know Roy died . . . for a little while today, and the next twenty-four hours are critical. I also know that my Roy will fight. He'll fight." She took a shuddering breath, pulling away from him and stood up.

Johnny watched her battle for control and win.

"No one knows why these things happen—they just do." Snuffling, she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue she retrieved from her purse. Joanne became stronger by the minute. Her voice steady she added, "No more of the blame game got it? I don't blame you; Roy would have something to say about it too, so condemning yourself makes no sense. I'm extremely relieved you're going to be okay. And, Johnny, I will forever be grateful it was you taking care of Roy today."

"I didn't do it by myself Joanne," He said.

"Of course others were helping Johnny, but you were the one injured protecting my husband. Hank told me all about it. You are always there for Roy, and I love you for it. Never forget it."

Those words worked magic. A wonderful feeling of belonging rushed through him. He could always count on Joanne to put things in perspective.


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

To Save a Life

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Eight

* * *

It was impossible to get a decent sleep when someone was shaking you awake every two hours. After spending such a semi-sleepless night, and satisfied his patient wasn't displaying any symptoms, other than grumpiness, Morton cleared him allowing Johnny to go home. By the time his release papers were actually processed, it pushed toward afternoon. Instead of going home, as suggested he do, he headed up to SICU to sit with Roy, and wait for the arrival of Joanne. He wanted to be sure that Roy's wife had the emotional support she needed.

Doctor Brackett granted Johnny unlimited access to Roy's room. Even thought one of the surgical ICU nurses didn't approve, she didn't hassle him over it; the relationship existing between the head of Rampart's ER and the LA County Fire Department was well documented.

A nurse explained Roy spent a quiet night. "His readouts are steady, and his lungs show signs of healing. Positive signs," she said.

He took her at her word because from last evening till now, some twelve plus hours later, he couldn't tell. To Johnny, Roy looked worse for wear, new bruises were emerging, his coloring wasn't much improved from last evening, and the heart monitor showed an increased tempo as his body tried to heal itself.

He slowly lowered himself into one of two chairs available in the room. As predicted, his body protested the slightest movement. His nausea had abated making him feel marginally better. If he moved to quickly, his throbbing head and side reminded him to slow down. He sat without speaking. It wasn't long before his aching ribs, and restlessness forced him into a standing position.

Joanne chased him out around four, stating he needed his rest and he wouldn't get it sitting here in the hospital. She'd call him if anything changed. Besides, she informed him, Dr. Brackett had added a-shift to the roster for immediate family, and the guys planned on taking separate shifts to sit with Roy later this evening.

You didn't argue with Joanne once her fierce protective side was showing.

His Rover was still at the station and Johnny needed a ride. He called Marco first, and not receiving an answer dialed Chet's number. When Chet answered, Johnny explained his need. Chet agreed at once.

Leaving the hospital without Roy's rock solid presence walking beside him left Johnny in a pensive mood.

"Jeeze Gage, ya look like crap." Chet greeted him.

"Nice of ya to say so, but just to be clear, I feel like it too."

During the ride to his apartment Johnny leaned his aching head back against the seat. Next thing he knew Chet was shaking him awake. They were in front of his apartment building.

"You gonna be all right?" Chet's eyes reflected his doubt.

He nodded to the Irishman. " I didn't get a chance to thank you, for what you did in the warehouse."

Chet's face losing the doubtful expression became serious. He understood what Johnny meant. "Hey we work as a team Johnny boy, so ya don't have to thank me. You probably should do something when you get the chance. Talk with Marco. He's acting weird like he's been taking silent lessons from Stoker."

Concerned, Johnny questioned Chet.

"It's like this Gage; if Mike suddenly started talking a lot we would think it strange right? Same principle applies to Marco, man. Marco being quiet, and down in the dumps isn't natural. I tried talkin' to him, but he shut me down."

"Give him some time to work through what's happened."

"I'm all for it Gage, but I'm picking up something else with him too. It's almost as if he's become uncertain." Johnny's brow puckered. Kelly had a tendency to exaggerate, but he was Marco's partner on the line, if he sensed something off then it warranted looking into.

"You talk with Cap about it?"

"No way man, not me."

"As soon as I get the chance I'll talk with Marco."

* * *

Johnny dragged his sore and tired body into his apartment. He downed a couple of aspirin even though he had a bottle of prescription pain medicine at his disposal. He looked at the clock as he sank his weary body onto the coach. It read quarter after five.

_In rising agitation, he searched for his partner, but couldn't see him through the thick veil of hot smoky air. It's your fault, his inner voice nagged._

"_Roy__! Let me know where you are!" _

_Hearing nothing, he continued his search. Frantic, knowing Roy's air supply was running short, if he they didn't find him soon. . . . His eyes caught a small scrap of material sticking out from underneath a large section of rotted flooring. _

"_No!" He fell to his knees desperately trying to clear the rubble, but every move he made was excruciatingly slow. _

"_You can stop searching for him Johnny, they've found him."_

_Looking around in confusion Johnny saw a lone figure standing in shadow._

"_Is he alive?"_

"_Barely, and you know you could have prevented it."_

_The body under the rubble started to gasp for air. Johnny refocused on the victim._

"_Did someone else fall? Who is that?"_

_"Find out."  
_

_Johnny pulled wreckage away from the gasping man's face. Suddenly the man stilled no longer breathing. He yanked at the last bit of rubble covering the man's face. Johnny physically recoiled, horrified by what he saw. The lifeless eyes belonged to him._

_The figure stepped into the light. It was Marco, and he was crying._

_

* * *

_

He jumped as the jarring sound of a ringing phone invaded his sleep, effectively ending his nightmare. Breathing hard, sweating, it took him a moment to orient himself to his surroundings.

_Was it the hospital calling? _Glancing at the clock, he noticed it was now after nine. He'd been asleep for a little over four hours.

Getting to the phone was painfully slow.

"Hello?" He said sleepily, and more than a little nervously.

"How are you feeling John?"

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Johnny was glad the voice belonged to Cap, and not someone from the hospital.

"Hey Cap, I'm feeling okay, though my muscles are formerly on strike"

Johnny heard a slight chuckle.

"Dr. Brackett said if all goes well they would wean Roy off the sedation medication starting tomorrow."

"Good to hear Cap. I'll feel better about his progress once he's awake."

"Your car is parked outside your apartment. Chet and Mike drove it over earlier."

"Thank 'em for me for would you?"

"Sure."

"Cap, How's Marco?"

"Funny you should ask. He's been more quiet then usual, though it's understandable in light of what's happened."

"I can talk with him, Cap."

"I appreciate the gesture John, but right now your priority is to rest. If you feel the need to talk about what happened my door's open."

"I know Cap, and I appreciate it."

"Is there anything you need?

"No, thanks for asking, and Cap? Thanks for the update."

"Sure pal, talk to you soon."

Hanging up, Johnny thought how incredibly lucky Station 51's a-shift was with Hank Stanley at the helm. His compassion seemed endless, and he truly put the welfare of his men first, offering his unwavering support whenever they needed it. He was like a father to Johnny. This information he kept to himself.

* * *

Walking into the SICU the next morning, Johnny discovered Dr Brackett, writing in Roy's hospital chart.

Brackett glanced up. Knowing these two men for as long as he had, Brackett wasn't surprised to find the medic in this early. He also understood Johnny's need to be close to his friend.

"Good morning Johnny. How are you feeling?" Brackett greeted, his keen eyes giving him the practiced once over.

"I'm better than yesterday, just a slight headache."

"Ribs given you a problem?"

"Taped up nicely, and if I don't move to quickly they won't yell at me."

Dr. Brackett smiled.

"How's Roy?" The bruises on Roy's face, Johnny noted, had merged making the injured man appear as if he were wearing a mask. The swelling had subsided too.

"His prognosis looks good Johnny," Brackett said, watching as the man slowly sank his body into a chair. "His kidney function is holding steady, considering the bruising it took. The liver function tests haven't come back from the lab yet. We are slowly weaning him from sedation. He should be fully awake by tomorrow evening. Once he's awake we'll take him off the Ventilator."

Returning to making notations on Roy's chart, Brackett cautioned, "be sure not to overdo it, Johnny."

* * *

How did Brackett know? The man must have a six sense Johnny thought, remembering Brackett's cautionary advice as he waited for the DeSoto children to be released from school. . . .

Joanne, sent them to school knowing it was the best place for them. Keeping them to their known routine, and being surrounded by their friends, would help. She asked Johnny if he would talk with them, reassure them, he would be okay. He volunteered to take them out for pizza, instead. He loved Chris and Jen with a fierce protectiveness. He would do anything for them.

Would they blame him for not being able to prevent what happened? He didn't have to wait long to find out. . . .

Jennifer spotted him first and began running to him calling, "Uncle Johnny, Uncle Johnny, you're okay!"

She stopped short as her brother called sternly to her. She lost her smile.

"Hey, what's the matter Jen?"

With drooping shoulders, and shuffling of feet, her teary doe eyes looked up at him. "I almost forgot Uncle Johnny. Mommy told me to act like a lady."

Opening his arms wide he coaxed. "Its okay Jen."

That was all the incentive Jen needed. She went into her Johnny's arms, snuggling close but saying, "I don't wanna hurt your boo-boos, Uncle Johnny."

"You just made 'em feel tons better princess."

"Hi sport," Johnny said rubbing Chris' mop of sandy hair.

Once they were seated in the restaurant, and the pizza ordered, Jennifer blurted, "I was so scared Uncle Johnny because Mommy had big drippy tears in her eyes when she told us about you and Daddy. It made me cry. Then Chris yelled at me saying I was a big fat baby, and it made me cry even harder." she finished talking in a rush, her lower lip quivering.

"It's okay to feel scared. I get scared too."

"You do Uncle Johnny?" Jen asked, her eyes big and round.

Johnny could see he also had the attention of Chris.

"Sure, I get scared, but you know how I make myself feel better?"

With rapt eyes, Jennifer shook her head her little pigtails swinging. "I take a deep breath and think happy thoughts. Sometimes, I will think of you, or Chris, or going camping and being in beautiful place."

Johnny opened up his hand and placed four kisses into his palm. Jenny started giggling, "Uncle Johnny what are you doing?" He closed his hand and reaching for Jen's small one, opened hers palm up. He then opened his acting as if he was shaking something into hers. "Kay, now put my kisses in your pocket, and when you get really scared you can take one out and think of happy things."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "You're being silly Uncle Johnny." However, Johnny observed, her hand strayed to her pocket. Chris was smiling.

Becoming serious once again the little girl said, "Mommy says my daddy is in a special room that little kids can't visit. I miss my daddy." Again her little lips turned down, a slight tremor shaking them.

Johnny knew some of the emotion Jennifer was battling; he'd experienced such emotion yesterday himself. Roy's little girl-needed reassurance.

"Your mommy is right, Jen. Your daddy is in a room where only grownups can go. Your daddy is sleeping right now, but when he wakes up you'll be able to visit with him."

"When can I see my daddy, tomorrow?" Big bright eyes looked into his.

"I'm afraid not cupcake, but soon."

Disappointment filled her face. "Mommy says Daddy's room has special stuff to help him breathe. If he needs _that_ Uncle Johnny why is my daddy all alone then?"

Being sensitive to Jen's mood, Johnny was sure this was leading somewhere, but was hesitant to answer. "Well honey . . . there are lots of nurses and a few doctors who help—"

"Mommy usually is the first person to talk with Daddy when he wakes up, and then me." Jennifer's insisted, "Daddy's gonna be scared." Small hands crossed over her chest, wearing a pout. "I want my Daddy!"

Chris assured his sister looking uneasily toward Johnny, "Jen, don't be silly, dad won't be scared because he won't be alone. Mom is there, and so will Uncle Johnny, and I bet all the guys from the station will be there too."

"Chris is right, Jen."

Unconvinced the little girl's lower lip quivered, tears glistening. Seeing Jen in tears could do major damage to Johnny's heart. "I'll tell you what," he said trying to cheer her, "you draw your daddy a real nice picture, and I will take it to him."

She thought it over and approved. "I will draw him a real happy picture! I'll make one for you too Uncle Johnny because you look sad." Her trusting gaze rested on him. "Uncle Johnny?

"Yeah, ladybug?"

"I love you, and I know my daddy does too. I heard him say so to Mommy when that mean old car hurt you." Johnny had to blink hard, and swallow the lump that formed.

* * *

After returning to the house, walking the children slowly up the driveway, Jennifer skipping ahead, Chris tentatively asked, "Uncle Johnny is m-my dad really gonna be okay?" Johnny could see Roy's oldest struggling with fear and uncertainty. "Mom said, he has a lot of injuries."

Trying to alleviate those fears, he replied, "Chris, as far as I know he will. The doctors are taking great care of him. You'll have to be patient because it's gonna take awhile for his injuries to heal up."

"Mom says, you were hurt too. Is that why you're walking kind of slow?"

Acknowledging Chris' observation, Johnny nodded. "I'll be okay, Chris."

"I'm glad Uncle J-Johnny." Chris's voice broke as tears welled up.

Johnny reached out to draw him close. "It is gonna be okay, Chris."

Johnny's heart broke as he listened to Chris sob. "Shh, it'll be aright."

"Come on guys," Jennifer yelled impatiently from the front porch. Chris pulled away, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. Johnny waited until Chris was ready, and the pair resumed walking. Chris had taken only a few steps when he stopped short, forcing Johnny to do the same. Trusting blue eyes locked with his, and Johnny was instantly reminded of Roy.

"If I tell you something Uncle Johnny, promise you won't be mad?"

"Sport you can always talk to me, no matter what."

Chris looked down at the ground, his foot sliding a small stone around as he spoke. "When Mom first told me about my dad's accident, I blamed you because you didn't stop my dad from being hurt."

The sharp punch of his words landed squarely in the middle of Johnny's stomach. He hung his head in regret. _Hell, he blamed himself for not being more aware to what was happening. _Chris's very next words rescued his demoralized spirit. "I didn't stay mad long because I know you love my dad Uncle Johnny, and wouldn't let anything happen to him if you could help it."

The DeSoto children's steadfast belief in him amazed Johnny. Whatever he had done to earn such devotion was a mystery and he didn't take lightly.

When they joined Jennifer on the porch, the door opened.

"Grandma!" Jen squealed.

Johnny greeted Joanne's mother politely then giving the kids a hug, headed back toward the rover. Roy's mother-in-law wasn't exactly his favorite person. Always a little wary around her, he certainly understood Roy's mind-set whenever the mere mention of her visiting came up.

"Uncle Johnny, wait!" Jennifer called, racing back down the steps and catching up with him. She grabbed for his hand giving it tiny kisses. She closed his hand into a fist, looking up with adoring eyes, "Don't lose them. They're for you to think happy thoughts too." She turned and ran back to the house. Johnny stood still,basking in the warmth of his melting heart.

* * *

"Thank you Johnny, you are so good with the children," Joanne said, once he explained how the meeting went, "I know they will be okay."

A couple of hours later Joanne left with his promise that if anything changed he would call.

Roy's condition remained the same. Johnny read for a time and went to grab something to eat. though he really had no appetite. Returning to the room, he sat silently observing the professional bustle of the SICU. Nurses came and went from the room, some smiling at him, other's completely ignoring his presence.

Around midnight Johnny hauled his tired, and sore body home. He downed a large glass of milk and a couple of aspirin. After showering, he lay upon the bed and was out like a light.

* * *

"_Roy__!" Johnny screamed as he watched his friend plummet._

_You should have been paying closer attention, he thought. It's your job as his partner to watch his back._

_He heard Marco's voice yelling into his HT. "Code I, Cap Roy's fallen through to the basement we're gonna' need help!"_

_Come on Johnny we can't do anything for Roy right now." Chet shouted. We need help!" _

_Angry Johnny tried to pull out of Chet's grip. "No! I'm not leaving my partner!"_

_Chet spoke harshly, "You should have thought of that before he fell. If he dies it's on you, man."_

Johnny jerked awake his side screaming from the sudden aggressive way in which he sat up. Sweat dripped from him. He tried to even his breathing. His hand roamed through his hair. The nightmares . . . had begun. He tossed and turned the rest of the night.

* * *

The following morning when Johnny walked into SICU, Roy's chart indicated he spiked a fever overnight. He went downstairs to find Brackett in his office.

Brackett could see Johnny hadn't slept well. Concerned Brackett commented. "You're pushing yourself to hard Johnny."

"I'm fine, couldn't sleep." Changing the subject quickly, he asked, "what's causing Roy's temperature?"

"Johnny, this isn't unexpected,"Brackett reminded him."We've increased his antibiotic drip, and we're giving him an analgesic to help lower his temp."

Johnny's skeptical expression had Brackett saying, "his stats look very promising. His liver function test came back within normal range. We're monitoring his arterial blood gases. When he first spiked the temperature we ran a Renal CT to be sure it wasn't his kidney. His kidney is still highly inflamed, but showing some signs of recovery. "

* * *

Johnny returned to SICU. He sat next to Roy, throughout the course of the morning. Waiting for the arrival of Joanne, who told him before leaving yesterday; she wouldn't be in until this afternoon. Roy's temperature remained elevated but didn't climb. He applied cold compresses to his forehead and neck area throughout the morning. He was catnapping when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Waking with a start, he saw Dixie's smiling face.

"Hi there," she said by way of a greeting, "how's our star patient?"

"Hi, Dix. Roy's been a good boy so far." He tried for levity but the smile did not reach his eyes.

"I'd say it won't be long before Roy opens those captivating blue eyes of his."

"It can't come soon enough for me, Dix." His hand running through his thick mop of hair.

Seeing the strain of the last few days on his face, Dixie's maternal instincts kicked in.

"The nurses said you've been in here all morning." Giving him a reproving stare, told him, "John Gage you may have forgotten you're recovering but I haven't. I'm on my break, so how about keeping this old gal company for a cup of coffee? I'll even throw in some pie."

"How could I refuse the best offer I've had all morning, and hey Dix?" he told her winking, "I don't think you're old."

"The boy is such a charmer," she whispered to the man sleeping on the bed.

* * *

On schedule, Joanne arrived. Stress lines and dark circles under her eyes were the only clues as to how her night went. Johnny definitely could relate. She gave him a hug and handed him a picture Jennifer had drawn. He smiled. Her artwork depicted the two of them under a large yellow sun holding hands. In the distance, another figure walked toward them. She had written a dialog bubble coming from her mouth. "Look Uncle Johnny, Daddy is coming home!"

* * *

During the afternoon, a steady stream of both Roy, and Johnny friends, stopped by the SICU. Johnny talked with them either at the nurse's station or in the waiting room.

His shift-mates made an appearance toward evening, in-between runs. Johnny was in the cafeteria and he greeted them warmly. Marco wasn't with them, but before he could ask about it. Hank asked, "how are you doing John?"

"Better, everyday, Cap."

Hank filled him in on their replacements. '"Dwyer is, being moved up to a-shift for a while. Roberts, from 110, is filling in for you."

After discussing Roy for a bit, Johnny asked, "Cap, where's Marco?"

"He's in the SICU waiting room. Said he'll visit with Roy later."

Johnny immediately went on the alert. That didn't sound like Marco at all. "What's going on?"

He looked at everyone.

"Lopez is struggling with some unresolved issue regarding Roy," Hank said.

Johnny's eyes pinched in concern.

Mike said, "He's been moody and is having difficulty concentrating; He's keeping his distance from the rest us."

"Chet?" Johnny questioned.

"Don't look at me, like I told you, he's not talkin'."

Cap was worried for the safety of his man and rightly so. If Marco's head wasn't in the game, a moment of distraction could be disastrous for him, as well as any individuals working alongside him.

—

Joanne vacated the room, and went for coffee when the others arrived. She understood Roy's friends were just as important in his life as he was in theirs.

Hank watched as Joanne entered the elevator. He admired the strength of character Roy's wife displayed and her depth of understanding. Joanne harnessed an inner self-assurance that helped her adjust to sudden changes going on around her.

Mike and Chet entered Roy's room first. Hank stood outside waiting his turn and Johnny went to find Marco.

Entering the SICU waiting area Johnny's eyes scanned the room. His eyes lit upon his friend who sat staring at the floor, the picture of dejection.

Johnny sat down next to his friend. "Marco?"

Marco remained silent and Johnny didn't think Marco would speak until his friend told him quietly, "I'm losing my edge. I'm afraid I may put someone's life in danger."


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

To Save a Life

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Nine

* * *

Marco turned away unable to look at his friend's trusting eyes any longer. "Today we responded to a working fire in an apartment building. I broke out in a cold sweat . . . ."

"Marco—"

"I imagined I could hear the floor giving way. . ." He shook his head. "I pull hose, Johnny. I'm not a paramedic. I work the scene, lay down water, and help with extrication. My contact with the victim is limited. Once you and Roy take over my part is finished. When you were injured, Roy took over your care and had you heading for the hospital quickly. We barely had time to register what happened, and you were already gone. It went much slower this time."

Johnny listened without comment.

Marco closed his eyes. "Chet and I had passed over that very same space a few moments before. A few seconds!"

Johnny felt a chill crawl across his skin.

The conflicted man breathed a ragged sigh. "Roy is a good man, a kind man, someone we work closely with, he's family. I picture him lying under the debris, hearing his cries of pain, trusting us to get him out. _Mi Dios; _I picture your hands Johnny." Marco's eyes opened as he lifted his own hands examining them, turning them over. They had our friend's blood on them!" Tears filled his eyes. Marco made no move to wipe them away.

The way Marco described what he remembered brought to life sights and sounds in Johnny's own mind. He shut the memories down.

Unaware of his shift-mates turmoil, Marco said, "I believe there is a power greater than my own, and I've always relied on the comfort of my faith to keep me strong. I'm finding little comfort. I have no answers. I've witnessed first hand, how without warning, our lives can be forever altered. I need to come to terms with this Johnny," Marco exclaimed, "For my piece of mind I'd better! If I can't trust myself, how can I ask someone else too?" Marco fell silent.

Shaken by his impassioned speech, Johnny chose his words carefully, his voice filled with empathy.

Don't do this to yourself, Marco. We've worked side by side for six years. Not once have I ever doubted your ability. Not once have I questioned you're commitment. I can't deny the pain you're feeling. Our line of work is dangerous; there is no way around it. We couldn't have known the floor would collapse. What happened to Roy was an accident, Marco. Don't let this _accident_ cause you to doubt yourself. You aren't alone in this. However long it takes, we will help each other get past this."

"Johnny I—"

"Marco?" When his friend made eye contact, he continued gently, "I'm gonna share with you something I was told and committed to memory. I struggled with self-doubts five years ago. I didn't know if I could stick it out as a paramedic. I had help from someone whose words influenced my decision. I have fallen back on them when I've needed to. Johnny kept a low even tone. "There will be days, I was told, when I'd question myself and this job I do. Days of heartbreak because of something I've witnessed, or an outcome I couldn't prevent. When it happened, I needed to stop—step back—and take a breath. The consuming what ifs and maybes are temporary. The life moments we live are here and now. These are the moments that really matter, and the only one's we have any control over. I'm to acknowledge that I'm human . . . with human emotions. I need to put some distance between the event, and its outcome. When I felt stronger I should ask myself three things. Did I do the best I could in the given situation? Did I still believe in what I was doing, and in doing it, could I still make a difference?

Marco wiped his eyes with a thumb. "Sounds like something Roy would say."

"Nah, it wasn't Roy." Johnny's voice held a melancholy edge.

Marco gave his friend a searching glance compelling Johnny to answer. "Cap, said these words to me. The day we lost little Margery."

"Johnny! _Lo siento. (I'm sorry) _I didn't mean to make you recall that sad time " He remembered the impact that little girl's death had on his friend. How torn up he'd been. Marco suddenly felt selfish. "Forgive me my friend."

Johnny shook his head, "Marco the point in telling you this, is to give you hope. We are a team. We laugh together, and we suffer together. Right now, as hard-hitting as this situation is for everyone, we will get through it together."

"Excuse me gentlemen?" A young woman interrupted. "I noticed the insignia on your shirt." You were at my home today weren't you?" She addressed Marco.

Marco looked baffled until a light of recognition crossed his face. "Yes, senora, this morning. How is your husband?"

"He's suffering from smoke inhalation, and a ruptured spleen from his fall down the stairs." Her eyes awash with tears, she said, "The doctors say he will make a full recovery. I can never thank you enough for what you did today. Because of you . . . I still have my husband." She quickly gave a bemused Marco a hug, and left to sit down next to an older woman who placed a comforting arm around her shoulder.

The two men sat in companionable silence neither one wanting to break the feel good moment.

* * *

Hank stepped back and out of view watching as the woman gave his linemen a hug. He overheard some of the conversation. Hank could see John working through emotions of his own, yet he had the ability to stay focused offering up a positive and honest response. He was impressed with John's retention of the long ago conversation he'd had with his junior paramedic. Marco visibly relaxed under John's soothing voice.

It crossed Hank's mind that John had the makings of a fine captain.

Stepping fully into the room, "Hey pal?" addressing Marco, "you ready?"

Marco stood. He knew his doubts and nightmares wouldn't just disappear, but his friend's steadfast belief in him and the promise of a helping hand had him hopeful the impact would lessen.

"Yeah, Cap I'm ready," He said, his voice strong with conviction.

* * *

Mike and Chet joined Johnny in the waiting room.

"Still looking like crap, I see." Chet mocked.

"If it bothers you so much, don't look." Johnny shot back.

Mike didn't comment. The ongoing battle of words and jokes between these two made life interesting. Chet was right though, John looked like crap.

Chet attempted to make small talk. "Squad got called on a run, but Tom wanted me to tell you they'll swing by when they can."

Johnny nodded.

"How's Joanne holding up?" Mike asked.

"Struggling, but she'll be okay."

"And you, Johnny?"

His friend shrugged.

The action alone told Mike what he desired to know. John managed to shelve his true feelings for now. Before long, he'd have to stop and face the music.

* * *

Station 51's temporarily assigned paramedics made an appearance. They kept Johnny company for a little while before returning to the station.

As the long hours turned toward evening, Joanne also went home for the night. No matter what time it was when Roy woke up she wanted a phone call.

Before going home for the evening, Brackett came by the SICU. Carefully checking over Roy's chart, he informed Johnny that Joe Early was call this evening. "You should be going home yourself, Johnny," Dr. Brackett suggested. "You're supposed to be resting."

"I will in a little while doc."

* * *

Nurses came and went. The SICU unit kept constantly busy. Roy wasn't the only patient. Johnny watched the activity to pass the time. . . .

The heart monitor took on a loud beeping then resumed its normal rhythm. Roy's eyes move beneath his closed lids.

"C'mon Roy, you're almost there."

* * *

Another hour passed. The shrill alarm of the ventilator going off startled him.

Eyes automatically tracked to his friend. Roy just waking had yet to open his eyes. Johnny could see the panic set in as Roy felt the ventilator tube down his throat. He began to fight it. The pretty nurse from two nights before rushed into the room. Seeing that the patient wasn't fully awake and fighting the ventilator, she put a restraining hand on Roy's shoulder.

"Mr. DeSoto, you are at Rampart General Hospital, in the surgical intensive care unit. You're on a ventilator. You are going to be fine, but you need to calm down." Having little effect, she tried again.

When the second attempt failed, she turned to Johnny. "Mr. Gage, maybe if you talk to him it will help." She pushed the call button next to Roy's bed. "Page Doctor Early."

Johnny using his paramedic voice, said reassuringly, "Roy, its Johnny, you're safe at Rampart. You have a ventilation tube down your throat. Don't fight it. Calm down. You're gonna be fine, but you need to relax. Just let the machine do its job."

Under the steady soothing voice of his friend, Julie watched her patient grow still. The attentiveness John gave to him, and his friend's wife, showed her that Rampart's Casanova had a deeper side to him.

"That's it, relax."

Roy's eyes slowly opened and he looked around.

Johnny's relief had him grinning like a fool. "Welcome back."

Groggy, Roy hurt everywhere and he didn't have a clear picture of what happened. Unable to talk because of the tube he waited for Johnny to speak. A nurse spoke to him, instead.

"Mr. DeSoto," she said, "Dr. Early is on his way." Nod if you understand me." Roy nodded. "You have had surgery, and are recovering."

"Hello Roy, you gave us quite the run for our money." Joe told him as he entered the room.

Julie rattled off vitals as Joe listened to Roy's lungs, checking the monitors. He read Roy's chart then satisfied he told Roy, "Ready to have the tube removed?"

When Roy no longer coughed or gagged, he asked for some water. The nurse held a cup with a straw to his mouth. After taking a few sips, he stated simply, "Ow." His voice sounding raspy.

His hand absently rubbing his throat Johnny agreed, "Boy, I know it."

"Roy, how are you feeling?" Early asked.

"I've had better days," He whispered. His chest felt bruised and heavy. Coughing hurt like hell. He was fighting a lethargy he knew was a bi-product of sedation. His arm was in a cast and seeing his legs elevated he asked, "How bad?" he asked.

"What can you remember?"

"Only bits and pieces, with major gaps."

Joe explained about his injuries but saved the details for a later time. "How's the pain?"

"Not good."

Inserting medication into Roy's IV line he said, "This should have you feeling more comfortable in a few minutes. We'll let the nurses in SICU give you the VIP treatment for another day at least. You're temperature is still elevated, and we'll start you on breathing treatments. If your liver test and kidney ultrasound are normal, we'll move you into a semi-private room day after tomorrow. You'll be with us a couple of weeks I'm afraid."

The pain medicine was making him feel fuzzy.

"I'll be in later to check on you. I leave you in the capable hands of your partner."

Roy sleepily questioned Johnny about how Joanne was handling everything.

"Better' n me I can tell ya." Johnny pulled up the familiar uncomfortable chair, _if I never see this thing, again it will be no great loss,_ he thought. "Your mother-in-law is at the house helping out, and you're kids miss you." His lips compressed in a tight line, as he gingerly sat down.

"What happened?"

"I'm fine Roy."

"Johnny . . . I'll find out . . . he argued drowsily.

He gave Roy a lopsided grin, "Would you believe me if I tell you I . . . uh . . . got into a tussle with some debris?"

"Looks like you . . . lost, Junior. You okay?"

"Yeah, I will be."

"Tell me later?"

"You bet."

Roy's eyes slid closed in sleep.

* * *

As promised, Johnny called Joanne. Her tearful reaction worked to chip away at his protective shield. After he hung up, he waited only a moment before he dialed again. He heard distant ringing.

"LA county Fire Department Hank Stanley speaking."

Clearing his throat, he said, "Hey Cap, Roy's awake . . ."

* * *

He found himself in the chapel. This was the last place he usually graced with a visit, but he needed a quiet place to think. Johnny sat with his head bowed. Anyone entering would think he was deeply engrossed in prayer, but he wasn't praying. Instead, he sat looking at his at his hands. Of course the were clean now. But no matter how many times he'd washed them, he couldn't wash away the memory of them stained red. The events of the rescue tumbled through his mind, complete, with the agonizing moment he thought Roy had died. He started to shake. He knew he should go home. There wasn't any reason for him to stay, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. Days of uncertainty, the fear he'd loose his brother, and being constantly on the go kept him in the chair. He remained strong because people depended on him. Here in this room he could let his guard down.

Caps words came back to him, and he acknowledged he was human.

It started with one slowly rolling tear sliding down his face. This lone tear hung on the edge of his chin before it dripped onto his hands. Another and another then joined this lone tear, until a steady stream ran down his face, washing his hands clean.

* * *

Sufficiently recovered physically, three weeks later Johnny was back at work. His rib still ached occasionally, mainly at night when he lay flat, or if it were damp, but he could live it.

Roy, released from the hospital a week ago, was making a slow but steady recovery. Every time he visited Roy, which was whenever he could, it reminded him how close he came to losing his friend, which in turn would trigger another nightmare. He was tired. Today he wished Roy were here. Tom went back to working his c-shift schedule, and this left a-shift open to rotational fill ins. This shift he was working with Brice. He hadn't had any contact with Brice since Roy's accident, so it felt strange suddenly working with the man.

The morning proved uneventful and slow. Brice kept to himself.

Just as they were finishing lunch, the klaxon sounded.

_"Station 51, engine, 36, engine 116 structure fire, 211 West Compton St. 2-1-1 West Compton, Time out 15:35"_

Smoke and flame was shooting from the lower story, of the two-story structure, upon their arrival.

"LA, Engine 51, we have smoke and flames showing from the first floor, at this location."

"10-4 51."

"Kelly, Lopez, get an inch and a half in there."

"Help! Help! Please! My father's still in the house!" A screaming woman grabbed at Hank's coat.

"Whoa, Ma'am, you say your father's still in the house? Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes, please, he's getting on in years and usually sleeps this time of day. Oh, God, please!"

"Gage, Brice, gear up we have victim still in the house! In and out boys."

"Ma'am where in the house is he?"

"Right back bedroom," she sobbed, Hank doing his best to keep her upright.

"Ma'am, these firemen will take care of it. Let's wait over here." He guided the woman to where Mike was working the switches on the engine, easing her shaking form down to rest on the bumper. "You rest right here."

"Engine 51 to Engine 36, begin ventilation procedures, and protect exposure to the west side. Engine 116, assist 51, inside the structure."

Hank grabbed a yellow blanket from the squad, spreading it on the ground. Grabbing the oxygen and bio-phone, set up both. He then guided the woman to the blanket. He anxiously waited for the return of his men.

Inside keeping low, the foursome made their way toward the stairs; flames engulfed the kitchen area of the house. Marco directed the stream of water at the flames, moving the hose in a circular motion a few times before giving it a steady stream. He turned toward the stairs spraying water against the walls, to keep the fire from advancing. Two me from 36 entered and began directing water into the kitchen.

They headed up the stairs.

The smoke made it difficult to see. Gaining the top of the stairs, feeling their way down the hall, the two paramedics reached the back bedroom. Feeling for heat through the closed and locked door, Johnny determined it was safe to open. "Fire Department," he hollered banging on the door as Brice forced it open. The victim was lying face up on the bed, unconscious. Johnny quickly took off his mask and placed it over the elderly man's face, checking for a pulse. He had one.

"I'll carry him out Gage," Brice yelled taking the air mask form the old man's face and handing it back to Johnny. He deftly replaced it with his. He quickly scooped up the unconscious victim in a fireman's carry, and immediately headed for the stairs with Johnny following.

Brice began coughing as he made his way down the narrow hallway, toward the stairs. It was hot in the hallway. Before heading down Brice took a quick whiff of clean air from his mask, and replaced it on victim. Chet tapped Marco on the shoulder to let him know he would guide Brice down the stairs. As Brice headed down, he could see the fire eagerly devouring the walls of the living room. Johnny was making his way down the stairs when without warning part the ceiling gave way in front of him. Brice jumped the last three steps to the bottom to avoid the falling debris. He kept his feet with help fromChet, and continued to carry the victim outside.

"Johnny!" Chet called from the bottom of the stairs. While not catching him, the collapse of the ceiling blocked his route down the stairs. He had no choice but to go back up. "Back bedroom," he yelled to Chet.

Chet yelled over the HT, "Cap, Johnny's been cut off, were gonna need the ladder at the right rear window!"

The fire was now roaring through the left half of the building. It wouldn't be long before the fire reached the room. The heat was building in the narrow hallway. _Ah, man, this is not good._ Johnny ran toward the room he'd just vacated when the explosion rocked him from his feet. Stunned he lay on the floor. A loud ringing filled his ears. He slowly raised himself to his knees shaking his head trying to stop the ringing. The fire was fast advancing toward him. He staggered to his feet, and lurched toward the bedroom, holding on to the wall. Once inside the threshold he fell to his knees, but managed to shut the door. Trying to slow down his breathing, he was using up his oxygen at a good clip. He looked toward the window. It was open to air the explosion breaking the glass.

* * *

Picking himself off the floor, Chet hollered, "Marco! You okay?" He could see the two firemen from 36 slowly gaining their feet.

"Chet I'm okay. What about Johnny!"

* * *

Hank and the Captain of 36 just grabbed the ladder off the rig, when a small explosion rocked the area. Windows blew out, and those on the ground covered their heads to protect themselves from flying glass and debris. The woman screamed.

When debris stopped flying, Hank called out over the HT, "Engine 51, to HT 51 . . . Gage?"


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with em._

To Save a Life

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Ten

* * *

The ringing in his ears continued.

Johnny knew moving toward the window would be a good idea, but his mind and body weren't coordinated. He stayed on his knees breathing heavily. Thirty seconds passed before he lifted his head to look toward the window. _You had better move_ he willed his body. The fire would break through any minute.

"Gage!"

He heard his name called over the HT. Johnny groped for it. In his fumbling, it slipped through his gloved hand and hit the floor. Recovering it he shouted, "Cap, it's about to get mighty toasty in here!"

Hank found he was able to breathe again. The explosion while small in scale, had knocked everyone off their feet downstairs, John trapped on the second floor would have experienced a parallel blast effect, and while the effect was diminished, in such a confined space it could have easily knocked him unconscious. "Hold on John helps coming. Can you make it to the window?"

"Yeah, Cap."

The ringing in his ears faded, but didn't disappear altogether as he crawled his way over to the window ledge. Smoke entered the room from beneath the closed door, twisting upward, racing toward the open air. Flames erupted into the room . . . following the smoke—riding up the door panel to the ceiling spreading outward devouring the adjacent walls. The red stuff was fast consuming the carpeting. Smoke became dense. _Come on. _He watched the ladder being set in place. He could feel the heat at his back. Marco made his way up as Johnny stepped out onto the first ladder rung. He felt Marco's steadying hand guiding him down. Glancing once into the room, he realized how close of a call it had been.

Once at the bottom Marco helped guide his shaky shift-mate over to the squad and lowered him until he could rest on the bumper. Johnny pulled off his air mask. "Jeeze that was way too close Marco."

"Are you alright?"

Yeah, I think so."

Suddenly his shift-mate declared, "That's what's been missing."

"What?" Johnny rubbing the grit from his eyes, thinking he failed to hear something, not at all sure what Marco was grinning about. "What's missing?'

"The excitement only you can bring to a shift."

Johnny showed confusion. "The excitement only_—_oh, man! Really not funny Marco."

Marco laughed, and even though Johnny knew it was at his expense, grinned.

"Are you okay John?" Hank asked

"Yes sir. Got my bell rung, but otherwise I'm OK. How's the old guy doing?"

"Smoke inhalation. I want Brice to check you out."

"Aw, Cap."

"Now, Gage." Hank ordered his paramedic, but softening his tone said, "He's right you know."

"Cap?" Johnny inquired.

Hank smiled. "Lopez, he's right."

Dumbstruck, Johnny could only stare after his captain.

Johnny joined Brice on the yellow blanket. After enduring Brice's 'warmhearted' exam, both Brice and their smoke inhalation patient were on their way to the hospital.

Brice was a mystery to Johnny. Not once did Craig mention Roy's accident.

There wasn't any need to ask how Brice was doing. He could see for himself. Brice was back to being the . . . walking rulebook.

* * *

The house was a declared total loss. The start of the fire originated in the kitchen. The older gentlemen forgot he was boiling water when he went to take a nap.

* * *

Back at the station, Craig went to fill out the logbook, and Johnny went and grabbed a cup of coffee.

"Johnny?"

"Yeah, Mike? You want some?" Johnny asked, lifting the coffee pot in the air.

"No, thanks."

"What's on your mind?"

The engineer joined Johnny at the kitchen table. "We all thought we'd head to Roy's this Saturday to see what we could do for him around the house. You have any plans?"

"Um, yeah I do, but I will drop by afterward."

"Did some poor girl feel _sooorry _for Johnny boy, and agree to go out with him?" Chet teased.

"Stuff it Chet," Johnny said.

"Come on Gage, we all know you're spending most of your off time over at Roy's. When something—or a feminine someone—has grabbed your attention, I'm curious is all."

"Ya know what the say about curiosity, dontcha? It kills the linemen."

"Ha, ha, Gage." Chet said, "C'mon spill it. I can see you're dyin' to tell me."

Chet had a point; Johnny did want to tell him, only if to knock that smug look from his face.

"Remember the young blond nurse . . . the one who works in the SICU?"

Chet's brow wrinkled. "Jackie . . . something-or-other. What about her?"

"Her name is Julie, Chet, and she asked me out on a date." A wolfish smile lit up Johnny's face at Chet's disbelieving look.

"That chic asked _you _out? This won't end well. What's the matter with her?"

"See? This is why I don't like telling ya things. You just suck the fun right out of everything." Johnny rose, and taking his coffee joined Marco in the dayroom.

Brice finished up with the logbook, and headed toward the coffee maker. After pouring a cup, he joined Mike and Chet at the table.

"You hear Gage's got a date this weekend?" Chet asked Brice.

The ever-practical paramedic informed Chet, who was frowning, "what Gage does in his private time is none of my business."

"You should listen to 'em Chet." Johnny called from the couch, wearing a self-satisfied smirk.

* * *

Captain Stanley leaned back in his office chair. He smiled at the bantering going back and forth. His men were slowly getting back to normal. They wouldn't be whole he knew, until their senior paramedic returned to work.

The weekly ten minute 'chat' sessions he'd insisted upon, to check their mental well-being, were helping. John still had him concerned since he'd had trouble sleeping. The man was spending a majority of his free time helping with Roy's family, not that it was a bad thing, but sometimes he needed to give himself a break and John wasn't always good about pacing himself.

* * *

The rest of the evening went smoothly with only two minor calls for the squad and one for the engine. Everyone turned in for the night, Johnny was peeved when Brice decided to use Roy's bunk.

"_Drew!" Johnny couldn't believe his friend was lying on the pavement._

"_I must be bad," the injured man said coughing, "to warrant LA counties two best paramedics." _

"_Drew were does it hurt." Johnny said taking his pulse and gently palpitating Drew's abdomen. His friend recoiled in pain. Johnny looked to Roy, fear shining from his eyes. _

"_John—Johnny you tell Pam . . ."_

_You'll tell her."_

"_No he won't, Johnny."_

"_Roy__?" Johnny looked up at his friend in total confusion._

"_He just died."_

"_Drew!" Johnny quickly felt for a pulse at his neck._

"_No, no, no. Drew." He began CPR._

"_Johnny that's not me lying there. You couldn't have forgotten I'm already dead. You didn't save me." _

"_Or me . . ."_

_Johnny looked around to find Drew and Margery standing next to him. Blinking hard, thinking he was seeing things, he looked at the victim again . . . it was Roy underneath his hands._

"_Roy__!"_

_

* * *

_

"Johnny!" He jerked awake, someone was shaking him none too gently. He looked up at Marco leaning over him.

Marco said, his voice hushed, "you were calling out in your sleep thought you needed to be woken up."

Johnny took a deep shaky breath and sat up. His felt his heart racing in his chest. "Did I wake anybody else?"

"No, doesn't look like it." Marco headed back to bed. Johnny looked over to see Brice peacefully sleeping. Johnny envied him. Did nothing ever bother him? He ran shaky hands through his damp hair.

Johnny jumped when Brice said, "they fade in time, Gage." Beset by nightmares most of his life, Brice felt he could speak with authority on the subject.

Johnny sat for a moment looking over at Brice. His eyes were open and Johnny saw a deep understanding in them. Johnny nodded. Slowly he lowered himself back down, an arm crossing over his eyes. For the second time in the shift he found himself wishing Roy were here.

"Sorry I woke you, Craig."

He didn't receive an answer.

* * *

On Saturday, Johnny showed up at Roy's house liked he'd promised. Chet bluntly asked how his date went. Johnny only gave him a half smile, letting the man wonder.

* * *

Time . . . a small word with a large meaning. In ones imagination, it can do the impossible, slow down, speed up, and even stop. It can mark an occasion either happy or sad; be an enemy or a friend. However, no matter how one viewed time, or it's meaning—time always marched on, Hank thought.

This day was long in coming.

Next shift, Station 51's crew would be complete again with the return of their senior paramedic. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he closed the duty roster. Pushing his chair away from his desk, he stood wiping the moisture from his eyes. His wife Emily was right. He was becoming a big soft teddy bear in his old age.

* * *

Fifteen weeks and long convalescence later, Roy was able to return to work. As a thank you for the support given these many weeks, the DeSoto family hosted a barbecue. It was a near perfect day for a back yard party. The sun was shinning, puffy white clouds lazily drifted by, and the temperature stayed a humid free, 77 degrees.

Roy sat on the back deck listening and watching the camaraderie going on around him.

During his recuperation, his close friends and family came together to make sure he didn't want for anything. Roy was overwhelmed with the generosity from his friends and the firefighting community.

His eyes rested on his wife Joanne, laughing at something Hanks wife. Emily, and Dixie were discussing. Roy knew he would have been as helpless as a newborn kitten without Joanne. With two broken legs, ankle, arm, and recovering from major surgery, she had to do everything for him. As grueling as the extra work placed on her shoulders had been, she never complained about that part of it, at least not to him.

When he felt sorry for himself, or grumbled about his slow recovery, she reminded him that he was alive! He had a family who loved him, wonderful friends who supported him, and he had a job he enjoyed. She went so far to as to give him hell one afternoon when he was being unreasonable.

_"Roy DeSoto, I do not want to hear you're excuses. Johnny is on his way to take you to your physical therapy session and you need to go."_

_"Its painful Jo, I need a break," he replied grouchily._

_The physical therapy sessions twice a week were monotonous and painful. The casts had recently come off, and his limbs were weak having lost a considerable amount of muscle mass. He understood the more his muscles worked the stronger they'd become, but he woke up bad-tempered and decided to skip one of the sessions. _

_Joanne was having none of it._

_With her hands on her hips, she sternly lectured, "Fine, Mr. DeSoto, stay home. Delay going back to work. When Johnny arrives, I will inform him that the sacrifice he made when he threw himself over your unconscious body, sustained injuries on your behalf, and still bother him I might add . . . was for nothing. It seems his stubborn best friend has decided to feel sorry for himself, and stay home. I suppose while I'm on a roll I might mention three others risked their lives—"_

_Shamed, he said, "Jo, stop, you're right." _

_Losing steam and the stern expression, she put her arms around him. "Honey, you are on the home-run stretch. Don't loose focus of it now."_

_

* * *

_

As the memory ended, he smiled at his wife's psychological bullying tactics. From that point forward, he hadn't complained about his sessions. He felt extremely fortunate that's all she'd lectured him about; she could have insisted he quit, or take the captain's exam after his this recent brush with death. His wife did neither.

A new game started. As he watched, Johnny was tying a bandanna around the eyes of his nemesis, Chet.

Johnny had given his unwavering support throughout these long fifteen weeks. On his days off, he volunteered to get him to his doctor visits or physical therapy sessions, lifting some of the burden from Joanne. He took the kids camping more than once to give her a needed break. Johnny handled his moodiness and his angry blow-ups. He even accompanied Roy on a couple of sessions with Dr. Jackowitz, one of the department's psychologists.

His crew mates all pitched in to mow the lawn, or do chores Joanne had on her 'to do list'. The Stanley's took the children for overnight stays too. He was highly fortunate in having such good, caring people for friends.

"Hey pal." Hank Stanley pulled up a deck chair stretching his lanky legs out in front him. "I'm leaving the games to the young."

Both watched as the game of blind man's bluff got going. Jennifer had insisted everyone play. She had supplied a pink Barbie scarf to use as the blindfold, and thought it would be very funny seeing grown men wearing it. Squeals of delighted laughter flowed around the yard as Chet tried to grab one of the children. Both men smiled at the scene.

They overheard Chet whining. "Dwyer, no cheating you're supposed to freeze when you get tagged."

Johnny accused, "who's the one cheating huh? How did ya know it was Tom since you're the one wearing the blind fold, Chet?"

"Chet, how could you! What kind of example are you setting? Think of children!" Marco reprimanded.

"We can't let him get away with cheating," Johnny snickered.

"He could get permanent latrine duty," Mike suggested

"Hey, come guys," Chet complained, "not cool."

"I've got a better idea, Michael," Cap called. "Chet, ya twit! Cheating? It's a kiddies' game for pity sake. How would the Phantom like early retirement?

Roy laughed, along with just about everyone else.

"Aw, Cap." The burly Irishman defended himself. "I wasn't cheating." Chet turned to his shift-mate who now wore a monkey grin on his face. "I wasn't, Gage."

"Yeah, sure Chet, I believe ya." he said.

Once the game resumed Hank said, "Glad to have you back at work tomorrow Roy. Having a new face every few shifts was a bit disconcerting."

"Glad to be back Cap," Roy said sincerely. "It's been a long side road."

"I hear you."

"Johnny seems to have done alright without me."

"John survived breaking in a trainee, while working with Brice. It made for an interesting couple of shifts. He's been driving so it may come as a shock to suddenly find himself back in the passenger seat." Hank smiled.

Roy grinned, "I'll be sure to give junior driving privileges."

Hank chuckled.

"Cap. I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate all that you've done for my family. Joanne told me how kind you were to her at the hospital."

"Roy, I recognize the value of the thanks, but it's not necessary. I should tell you that Joanne was remarkable at the hospital. I told Emily how struck I was, by her poise. Not many women hold it together like she did."

"She's been amazing." He conceded his eyes softening.

Anyone could see Roy DeSoto was clearly in love with his wife.

"Have you talked with John about your accident?"

"We had a few conversations, Cap. He is working through a number of . . . misconceptions."

Hank wasn't the least bit phased by this information, since he knew what those "misconceptions" were.

Roy's eyes automatically scanned the yard for his best friend. Johnny was now wearing the scarf.

When Roy looked his way again, Hank volunteered, "I tried talking with him about it, but you know how stubborn our boy can be."

"Oh, I know. While Johnny doesn't think I'm aware of this, and probably wouldn't thank me for telling you, he welcomes your advice, Cap and holds you in high regard."

Taken aback by Roy's candid disclosure Hank sat in silence a moment. To know the youngest member of his crew thought of him this way made him puff with pride. "Thanks for letting me know."

"Just don't let on you know, or my partner won't let me hear the end of it." Roy smiled then sobered, "Johnny can be complicated Cap, he feels things deeply and it takes him longer then most to reason it out, but he'll get there."

"Roy I have been concerned with his recurrent nightmares. When he returned to work they were quite common, as time passed they've slowed in frequency but he still has them. I'm hoping with your return to work, they'll disappear."

"We can only hope." Roy wasn't convinced they would. While the nightmares connected to Roy's accident might end, a few of his partner's nightmares revolved around his childhood. Something from his past revisited him in sleep. No, his friend's nightmares wouldn't totally go away.

Hank revealed, "John doesn't now this yet, but the department wants to give him a citation for bravery in the line of duty. Believe it or not, it was Brice who recommended him to battalion."

Roy's eyes widened while giving a slight whistle. "Johnny will tell you he was only doing his job."

Taking a sip from his beer, Hank looked toward the man under discussion. "I was there Roy. John did more than his job."

"It was a team effort, and one I owe my life too," Roy said with feeling.

Hank watched Roy for a moment. "How have you adjusted to all of this?"

After a long hesitation, Roy disclosed, "Cap, I thought I was going to die."

Hank paled visibly at his words.

"Your life flashes before you. This experience has changed me." Roy paused to watch his friends a moment before continuing, "Family is everything, and friendships take top priority. I know life is brief, that every second of every day is a gift beyond measure, even with all its trials.

Hank listening intently, nodded.

"During my long recovery I had plenty of time to think about my future. I have everything I need right here, and right now." He waved his hand to indicate his family and friends.

"All of us do Roy." Hank afraid to say anything more for fear his emotions would betray him.

"Daddy . . . Mr. Stanley . . . are you gonna play?" Jennifer DeSoto called, hands on hips, pouting prettily.

"Ah, duty calls, Cap." Roy grinned. Hank placed a hand on Roy's shoulder, and together they joined in the game with the rest of their extended family.

* * *

The next morning a silent Joanne DeSoto watched her husband dress for work.

She'd long prepared for this day. On the one hand, she was extremely grateful he headed back to a job he loved. On the other the frightening reality of waiting for the phone to ring . . . would start all over again.

Before he headed out the door, she squared her shoulders giving him a bright smile.

Roy was not accustomed to giving his wife mushy speeches. By nature he was reserved. He reached for her wrapping her in a tight embrace.

"Thank you." He whispered to her following it up with a tender kiss. "I know how impossibly hard this moment is for you. I thought I'd give you something to carry you through the day." He winked.

"I love you." She told him automatically. "Be well, stay safe, come home."

Bright blue eyes bore deeply into hers relaying an important hidden message.

"I can't promise you tomorrow Joanne, only today . . . this moment. I love you too. Don't ever doubt it."

Joanne watched him drive off tears streaming down her smiling face.

END


End file.
